Wrong to Right
by Kd Zeal
Summary: Breakdown and Dead End hit a turning point in their relationship. Slash, 'cons. Chapter four, worth the pain.
1. Chapter 1

Hey, all! I'm in a good mood, so I figured I'd post this today, because, really, why not? This first chapter is more of a prologue... I played Dead End, Xobit played Breakdown. Transformers does not belong to us. Also, warning... This prologue is very violent, 'gory', non-con and dub-con

* * *

The stars were staring at him, hard, cold and unforgiving. He wasn't sure where they fit in his life… no, he had three categories for his life. Things he hated, things he wanted to own and things he already owned. This meant he hated the stars that hung up there; he hated everything, everyone that stared at him.

Motormaster didn't allow them to own much, but there were things he could not take nor control mush to his displeasure. Such as Breakdown's status as a torturer, he was good at it, he even had Megatron's approval, the overlord often watching his sessions. He had even at times received advice from him, always given in a cold disapproving voice… but everyone knew that if he 'helped' a torturer he approved of him.

Right now though none of it helped, he was seething quietly in the darkness, charged with volatile arousal and hiding from Motormaster. A wordless cry of pain and fear had his head snapping towards it… that voice? Normally he would have been indifferent to another's pain and fear. It was after all the lot of a Decepticon was it not; you were at the mercy of anyone stronger then you. But he knew that voice…

Moving towards it he heard the tell tale noises of a scuffle and then the voice of a seeker. _"What is it groundpounder? Aren't you happy with having caught a seeker's favor?" _He could not hear the answer but he had recognized the seekers voice, it was one of the rain makers, Stormcloud? Oh who cared! Maybe watching the struggle would give him the added boost he needed for a self-overload.

Moving closer with great care, sneaking through the half destroyed cityscape he wondered who had been stupid enough to allow a seeker to get a hold of him. Dragstrip? Would be nice, but he doubted it; at this time a cycle he would be in the wash racks. One of the twins… more likely, but then he would be hearing the other in the grip of Acid Rain and that was not the case.

"_Please! Don't do this, Motormaster will kill me…"_ He heard the sound of metal breaking, just as he recognized the voice of the captive… Dead End._ "Maybe you should have thought better of coming here then groundpounder. This is Rain Maker territory anyone here is fair game!"_ Fury, hot and bright took over his processor. Slamming into the seeker and knocking him to the ground he saw that the Rain Maker had been preparing to force his spark on Dead End, the orb shining bluewhite in the shadows. Looking up he met the terrified optics of his gestalt mate, saw his mutilated chest plates and the open spark chamber with the broken clasps…

"A mistake seeker…" Breakdown growled, and closing his hand around the others exposed spark chamber, relishing in the fear and impotent anger he saw in the red optics. Leaning down he licked an audio receptor slowly then whispered into it, "no one takes what is mine!"

The seeker didn't even get to scream before the spark chamber was yanked out and held up at optic level. Sitting on the dead husk, Breakdown watched the spark flutter desperately before dying in a defiant flash of light. He squeezed the casing until it splintered, several glittering shards embedding themselves in his hand. He didn't mind the pain, merely rising his hand up to lick at the energon and pull the offending pieces out with his dermaplates and locking his hungry, blazing optics on a new prey.

He wasn't foolish enough to think, even for a moment, that he had been saved. No, life wasn't good, especially not to him... but why, out of all mechs, did it have to be Breakdown who had torn the seeker off of him? He supposed it was better, in a way, if he was going to be taken, a gestalt brother was likely better than a Rain Maker, but why Breakdown? Why did it have to be the beautiful and terrifying mech that he had occasionally dared to fantasize about? "I... um, th-thank you, Breakdown... I... should be go... going!" Dead End squeaked out, maybe he would get lucky.

Staring? Even Dead End, who should know better, was staring! Breakdown growled at his gestalt brother but it was difficult to think, to hate, when that lovely spark was bared like that. His gestalt brother was a gorgeous mech, black and red… dangerous on the battlefield, sexy. He had entertained fantasies of that chassis, of that voice, that voice…

Dead End sealed his own fate by speaking, breaking through the boiling confusion of emotions that roiled inside Breakdown's processor. He wanted his brother and he did not care who stood in the way or what his lovely, wounded prey thought of it.

Breakdown was not even aware that he had moved when his hands closed around the black shoulder armor in a crushing grip. He didn't care about anything but the taste of the trembling dermaplates under his own, the scared sounds his audios picked up…

He flailed instinctively, whimpering as Breakdown took the seeker's place over him, choosing to play with him for a while. Dead End might have tried protesting the painful hold, but he knew Breakdown's reputation, everyone knew the Lamborghini liked to inflict pain. But Breakdown was kissing him, KISSING him... It wasn't right to call it a kiss, it was a forceful claiming of his mouth, and Dead End couldn't even find the resolve to fight.

Oh, he tasted good! The fact enraged Breakdown, it was erratic and irrational, but anger burned brightly in him, made his grip even harder and turned his kiss from merely forceful to bruising. Motormaster owned them by virtue of being the most brutal and powerful of the gestalt, by virtue of Megatron's orders. The other gestalt teams were different, there was caring between them… it was sickening really, Motormaster never showed any care, he took and took until nothing was left. Breakdown always fought him, but not Dead End, the little whore just took it, whimpering despairingly, baring his spark for anyone when it belonged to him! And only him… The seeker was the last drop, it didn't matter that the wrenched open chest plates clearly showed that Dead End had been fighting back, no, Breakdown was sure he had enjoyed it, that the Porsche had wanted it.

He whined and clawed at Breakdown, everything he wanted, being given in every way he didn't want it, and Dead End just wanted the pain to stop, just for a moment. And maybe some time to ask a question, maybe even offer... Why had Breakdown told told the seeker that he was his? And if he meant it... Dead End screamed into the kiss and kept digging at Breakdown, not sure if he was trying to hurt the white mech, to stop him, or trying to bring him pleasure.

He… fought? Dead End actually had the audacity to fight him. Breakdown let go, stepped back and put a stop to the fight with a quick vicious strike across the open spark casing. The Porsche went to his knees with a choked cry of pain, but he could not let it end so easily, now could he. Grasping the black head he smashed his knee joint into the faceplate, then turned, hauling brutally on the all but limp body, flinging him onto the gray metal of the former rain maker.

"Since you wanted him so much, I'll make sure you never forget him!" Snarling, he forced the Porsche to grind his nimble dermaplates against the off line seeker's. Energon dripped from cracked plating, giving the creepy illusion that the seeker was leaking…

Dead End wasn't, at first, aware of what Breakdown had done. All he really knew was that he hurt, he was in such pain... He became aware of dermaplates against his, the Lamborghini was forcing his head against them, and so Dead End licked them curiously. There was no reaction... something was wrong... With a cry of horror and disgust Dead End realized he was being forced to 'kiss' the seeker Breakdown had offlined. Flailing, he tried to push away, whimpers and screams coming from his vocalizer. WHY did Breakdown think he'd wanted the seeker, hadn't he HEARD him begging for the seeker not to?

"My you are a whore! Does he taste good?" Contrary to the seeming calm of his words his grip on the back of Dead End's helmet became tighter, fury an almost physical pain… Breakdown saw only the things that kept the Porsche from his possession, real and imagined, and he made sure that the black and red mech paid for every one of them. Armor edges bent under his grip, wires straining and ripping under the parody of cresses he bestowed with his other hand.

"Do you like your lover now?" Growing impatiently Breakdown stood up, hauling Dead End with him, turning the other to once again claim the trembling dermaplates in a brutal kiss.

He... thought, that it was Breakdown against his dermaplates again. He hoped it was, all things died, but Dead End did not wish to gain the Unmaker's attention any sooner than he had too, and kissing the living was far less likely to gain attention than kissing the dead. Not that Dead End was doing anything more than opening his mouth, wailing in terror and pain, nothing that a sane mech would call a kiss. Neither of them was sane, though, and Dead End's thoughts had shifted to simply doing whatever he could to survive a little longer.

Feh! He certainly screamed enough to satisfy any one seeker, not to mention a whole trine… had his gestalt brother done that? Allowed a whole trine to have him, the rain maker's trine perhaps? Shoving Dead End away, Breakdown revved his engines in angry arousal. On one hand, he wanted to take his brother, on the other, the thought of using a seeker's plaything made him sick. Growling, he circled the wobbly Porsche trying to decide what to do… Claim him or leave him to be someone else's prey?

Staring blankly at Breakdown for a long moment, Dead End tried to work out what was going on now. Suddenly, he realized that he WAS staring, the beautiful Lamborghini hated being stared at... Dead End wrapped his arms around his torn open chest and turned his head away so that he wasn't looking at his gestalt brother any longer. "Please... Breakdown, just... please, I..." Dead End wasn't sure what he was trying to say.

Had he not spoken Breakdown would likely have convinced himself that his dear brother deserved to be left alone to whatever fate his bared spark entitled him to. But that accursed trembling voice, it was like fuel on his desire! Throwing himself at the Porsche, he lost control of his engine for a second and it revved into the danger zone, activating the deadly vibrations which effects he was named after. They slammed down onto the seeker's husk.

"Please what, whore? Take you? Use you, please you, kill you? Why do you even think you have the right to SPEAK!"

The vibrations shook his already injured body, making Dead End whimper and arch against Breakdown. He didn't answer the Lamborghini, half because he couldn't THINK and half because his gestalt brother had indicated he did not have the right to. He wished Breakdown wasn't so fond of hurting his 'playmates'... if the white Stunticon had only asked, if he were just a little less prone to leaving his interface partners broken... Dead End shunted his thoughts away from that path, returning to simply whimpering and arching.

No! The sounds and the chassis pressing into his… Growling he got his engine under control and sat up, he should not want this, want the bared spark, curse it!

"You are such a lucky little, whore!" Slapping Dead End across his face plates, a relatively light hit done more to get his attention than anything else, Breakdown opened his own chest. "You'll get some interfacing after all, and I'll make sure you never forget how it really feels to be dominated!"

Oh, no, no no no... oh, this was going to hurt, and it didn't even need too, and Dead End wished Breakdown hadn't hit him, hadn't shifted his attention, because now he was staring again... He couldn't help it, the Lamborghini's spark was so gorgeous... And the Porsche couldn't really deny that he wanted it, he'd wondered...

This time he struck to hurt, shattering the glass of one optic, he didn't want those optics on him! Reaching into Dead End's chest Breakdown racked his finger tips over sensitive circuitry; he wanted to touch the spark but did not trust himself to stop before off lining the Porsche. Deciding he had waited long enough with claiming his prize he slammed their chests and dermaplates together. He loved the taste of fear, of fresh half processed energon… Mm, his gestalt brother was sweet! The merge was almost too easy, what fight Dead End held seemed to have been used up…

He didn't dare do... anything. He just lay there, under his gestalt brother, shrieking weakly and trembling. He couldn't think, not that he was trying, as emotions and sensations swept through him. He WAS glad it was Breakdown taking his spark, and not the seeker, but Dead End refused to acknowledge that emotion, refused to believe it came from him. Even in the merge he just stayed still and shivered as the Lamborghini moved against him.

Breakdown wasn't entirely satisfied by this, the reason for it had not been of his design or choice and that lack of control made him angry… more then he already was. It did not help that his gestalt brother was so utterly and completely submissive, there was nothing to punish him for! The other gave way for him, accepted his violence with something akin to relief, yes, relief and a certain healthy dose of fear. His engine snarled, breaking free from his control again, sending vibrations straight into Dead End… at this point he did not care, he wanted to overload and deepened the one-sided kiss, pressing brutally feeling already abused plating crack under his own.

The vibrations should terrify him, Dead End could actually feel his chassis twist and crack from the unforgiving pitch... But they served as an unavoidable reminder of just who was taking him so violently, so demandingly. And that knowledge forced pleasure on him, even though Dead End knew he could so easily be offlined from his gestalt brother's 'play'. He couldn't make himself care, what did it matter if he offlined, it was going to happen sometime... this way, at least someone would get some pleasure from him... someone whom he almost didn't hate.

Suddenly it was enough, though Breakdown could not have told anyone what made him explode into bliss. Maybe it was the taste of fresh energon from the cracked dermaplateing, maybe it was the sounds of Dead End's chassis breaking under his engines erratic vibrations or maybe the fact that he finally had his gestalt brother… He had hungered for this for far longer then he wanted to admit! It did surprise him that his unwilling whore felt pleasure, but he allowed it. Why not? He had endured the pain so nicely…

He could feel Breakdown's pleasure, and feel that his own was allowed... a gift? No, don't think of that, better not to think that there was any way Breakdown thought him worth..._ 'No one takes what is mine.'_ No, the words meant nothing, nothing at all, said in the heat of Breakdown's mindless rage... Dead End screamed out a last time as the deadly vibrations hit just the right pitch to send agony through him, followed fast by pleasure as he arched against Breakdown, as the Lamborghini overloaded, and Dead End, to his own shock, followed him.

The overload shut down his engine more or less in the nick of time, he sat up feeling pleased enough to purr and looked at the broken wreck under him. Dead End looked absolutely beautiful against the now energon splattered gray of the offline seeker, his red bright and his black accentuated by cracks that glowed with fresh half processed energon. Only one problem with the whole display… there was too much energon. If Dead End were going to survive to be played with again a medic had to be called.

"Slag… you had better be grateful, my little whore, and you better learn how to show it fast, too!" Murmuring the threat out loud in a eerily tender tone, Breakdown stroked the edge of the mutilated chest, opened a channel to headquarters requesting a pick up for two mechs and reporting an in fight. He could have tried to cheat and say he knew nothing of the rain maker's death, but no… this was better, it would gain him respect and ensure that no one touched his gestalt brother in the foreseeable future.

Unfortunately it also landed him in the brig, something he was less than enamored with, surprisingly it was a relatively short sentence considering that he had taken the life of a seeker. But he imagined that the fact that he had helped his gestalt brother had something to do with that. Apparently the gestalts were far more valuable to Megatron then one measly seeker who could not defend himself against a 'groundpounder'. Getting out, he sneered at the furious seeker in the cell opposite his, the rain makers had tried to make his gestalt pay… stupid fliers!

Breakdown's mood went from bad to worse when Motormaster gave him a little lesson in 'respect' upon his return and he subsequently found that Dead End had yet to be released from Hook's tender care…

He heard Breakdown's words, or thought he did. There was absolutely no strength in him to respond to them, darkness eating at his processor. How Dead End kept himself even somewhat conscious until others were around, he didn't know. It certainly didn't make a difference either way, the blackness claimed him the moment he heard a voice other than his gestalt brother's and allowed himself to relax.

It wasn't surprising when he woke up in the med bay. It was, if anything, almost disappointing, and not just because Hook was anything but gentle in his work. No... if death was going to claim him, why couldn't it have come at a time when he was almost content? Gliding through the dark hallways, Dead End debated the merits of offlining in an almost happy state verses living in misery and the having to face the occasional attentions of, not only Motormaster, but anyone else who thought they could force him. He wasn't really getting anywhere, at least in his thoughts, and so he slipped happily enough into the gestalts quarters, relaxing a little as he reached their safety.

Three joors… maybe his gestalt brother was having 'fun' with the Constructicons, seriously, he could not have been that badly damaged! The mix of annoyance and something, NOT, like worry made Breakdown impossible to be near. Even Motormaster left him alone, though that was more because he did not want another gestalt member in the med bay. Megatron was less then pleased that Menasor was unavailable. Sulking in the gestalt's quarters was about all he could do, sulking and thinking and oh, did he have many nice ideas to console himself with!

Dead End was such a lucky mech that Breakdown was about as aroused as he was pissed when the Porsche walked in. Adjusting to the change in circumstances within a click, he had pulled his hands from his own seams and pounced on his gestalt brother, pressing them both against the door.

"Well… It seems you are a punctual little whore! Shall we see if you can stay online this time?"

* * *

Well, there we go. Please leave a review, flame, whatever. See ya later!


	2. Chapter 2

Hey all. What with one thing and another, I figured I might as WELL post this. So, this is set sometime after the prologue. Enjoy! Transformers are not ours.

* * *

Breakdown had a bad day, not that he actually had many good ones, but today had been worse than normal. Motormaster had decided it was his turn on the large gestalt leader's berth the night before, and so the day had started with a visit to the Constructions. The Constructions numbered Mixmaster among their gestalt… and he stared, always, insistently stared! Breakdown twitched lightly and tried to blend more into the shadows in the hall, you didn't curse at a Construction if you wanted Hook to repair you… or you were stupid, and Breakdown was neither, no matter what Motormaster's opinion was.

Fugitively looking up and down the empty hall, he slipped into the team's quarters, halting just inside as he spotted another sitting in the dark. For just half a click he thought it was Motormaster and wanted to run away, but then he realized that the mech was much too small and… well, there was only one Stunticon who liked the darkness as much as he did, or at least didn't care about whether it was light or dark…

"Dead End…" Breakdown purred the name out, this was as lucky as he ever got! He liked to play with his gestalt mate, and Dead End was always so very receptive. "Don't move, I think we need to have a little talk, don't we?" It really didn't matter what he said or how, as long as his words could be understood as a threat the paranoid mech would be ready for what he had to give, mm yeah, so very ready…

Dead End looked up, optics flashing in alarm as he recognized the other mech. Breakdown, he was almost as bad as Motormaster, and he didn't seem happy with Dead End at the moment. Of course, it could be hard to tell Breakdown's moods, he was basically always torqued. But he was fresh from the med bay after a night with the Stunticon leader, so there was a fair chance that his mood was even blacker than usual. "B-breakdown! What did I... do?" Dead End tried to draw further into the shadows, but his back hit the wall.

Predictably, Dead End panicked and moved, this was going to be fun! "I just need to talk to you 'End... just a friendly little talk..." In contrast to his words, Breakdown's optics had narrowed to slits and his voice lowered into a snarl. Confuse and scare him. That tactic always worked, it made the Porsche beg so prettily… sometimes he begged to make it all stop and sometimes he begged for release. Maybe this time he should try and get the Porsche to beg for both, it was an arousing idea! He walked over to the mech who was trying so very hard not to look at him and failing so miserably at it too, the panic in his optics was so much better then high grade.

"F-friendly?" He hadn't even realized that word was in Breakdown's vocabulary. And the snarling, predatory visage Breakdown was wearing denied the reassurance of his calming words. "What... do you want to talk about, then...?" He hated these stupid games Breakdown played, they were pointless. Breakdown was an attractive mech, he could have had almost anyone he wanted, if his predilection for sadism wasn't as widely know as his name was. Dead End had been on the receiving end of his gestalt mate's attentions more than once, and if he knew how to hope, he would be hoping to be spared this time.

"Friendly… Stop staring at me, 'End!" He purred the first word and then shifted to a snarling tone, as he lifted his right hand and backhanded the shaking Porsche. It was a relatively light hit, but it made Dead End flinch all out of proportions. Breakdown stepped fully up to the other, pressing him into the wall with his own bulk, satisfied to hear the screech of stressed metal. "Why do you persist on staring when you know I hate it?" He leaned on the other and awkwardly brought one hand up to cup the left side of Dead End's faceplate.

"Do you want me to rip them out? I can… It would be fun I think!" Pressing his digits to the edge of the Porsche's left optic, Breakdown licked over his audio receptor, enjoying the feeling of power and the aura of fear he was creating.

There was something ineffably right about being pinned to the wall by Breakdown. Not that it made the experience any less frightening, if anything it make it more so. And of course now he couldn't turn away from Breakdown, couldn't stop staring, no matter how much he wanted to. And under no circumstances would Dead End admit to WHY he was staring... "No, no Breakdown, you know I don't mean to stare, please don't," Dead End asked, shaking against the Lamborghini as fingers delicately pushed against an optic. The obvious way out was to simple offline his optics, but that was something that never even occurred to Dead End. Breakdown was going to do exactly what he wanted, and nothing Dead End could do was going to stop him.

"Hmm… you never mean to make me angry, do you? Too bad it happens all the time, right…" he whispered against the audio receptor, his digits tracing the optic socket, occasionally tapping the glass just to feel Dead End jerk against him. Breakdown's engine began purring at the thought of how delightfully scuffed his victim would look when he let him go… eventually they would have to move from the wall.

"If I didn't know better I would think you did it on purpose, just to make me do things like this? A hot little mech like you… I bet you could even get Megatron's attention if you put you processor to it… maybe I should instigate that, hmm?" Oh, that brought on a reaction! Was there anyone Dead End feared more than Megatron…? Somehow he doubted it, even Motormaster feared their leader. Breakdown feared him too, but he also admired him. He shuddered, if even half the rumors about the slag maker were true he was a master class sadist, just think what he could do to a mech…

"What do you say, would you like Megatron to slide his hands all over your chassis… like to scream his name?" The idea that maybe Dead End would like Megatron's attentions better ironically made Breakdown's temper flare up and he bit into the pliable metal on the Porsche's neck, his engine jumping up to a higher gear, snarling rather than purring.

THAT brought fear, Dead End was practically drowning in the fear Breakdown's suggestion caused. Was he making Breakdown angry to gain his attentions? Dead End didn't know, and he really didn't care right now, didn't even care that Breakdown thought he was hot. No, all that mattered right now was ensuring that he did not, in any way, catch Megatron's attention. "No... NO, Breakdown, don't... don't say that, don't..." Dead End couldn't think straight, shaking and trembling and jerking every time the Lamborghini touched an optic. He was FRIGHTENED... and it felt so good. The fear was beginning to consume him, to tear down every higher function... It was beginning. And he knew, Dead End knew, that it was barely started, he knew what Breakdown would do.

"DON'T DO WHAT…??" Breakdown roared, his dermaplates still touching Dead End's audio receptors, causing the Porsche to knock his head back into the wall, hard, in an effort to escape the volume of the shout. That had to have hurt quite a bit... abruptly he seemed to lose most of his jealous anger and began stroking a hand gently over his victim's helmet.

"Do you want him? I don't blame you if you do… he is very sexy! Is it him you want when I touch you?" His voice was gentle but flat, inflectionless. He could feel his anger boil, jealousy eating at him… Dead End would pay for this if it was true...

"Nooo..." Dead End wailed. "I don't, I don't..." It was a wonder his audios still worked, Breakdown was very loud when he wanted to be... but so tender when the mood took him. Dead End couldn't stop the moan that the momentary gentleness brought. It wouldn't last, Breakdown and gentle didn't belong in the same sentence, so there was no way this mood would last. And as the Lamborghini spoke, Dead End couldn't help but imagine the scenes Breakdown suggested. Fear and arousal began hitting equal levels.

"Then why can I feel you overheating? Hmm, 'End… my pet, are you fantasizing about him now?" A dangerous edge sneaked its way into his voice and he tightened his grip on the other's helmet, holding his head still as he began pressing two digits against the left optic glass. At the moment, Breakdown was all for tearing his gestalt mate to shreds, having decided that he was obviously fantasizing about Megatron. He was furious, jealous, and wanted revenge…

"Does it feel good, 'End? The pain… it won't leave for quite some time I'm afraid, it is going to be your new best friend, my hot little whore." So, so gentle… his voice dripping poison, he was not going to let his pet, his whore get away with this! He could feel the glass begin to give under his digits and eased up on the optic. He fully intended to break it, but wanted to enjoy every click of terror he could wring from the Porsche.

"I'm not even sure I'll let you overload, what with you being unfaithful to me… unless, that is, if you can somehow prove to me that you're not thinking of Megatron…" Licking and nibbling at the already abused neck joint then suddenly pausing, Breakdown offered Dead End a chance to redeem himself.

He could see the cracks forming, fracturing his vision, and fear gained a lead on arousal again. Dead End could only whimper and shake as panic continued to eat at him. Hearing the tantalizing offer in Breakdown's deadly voice, Dead End took it hopelessly. It would save him no pain, but it might, just MIGHT, allow him a brief moment of pleasure. Breakdown usually kept to his promises, after all. "I'm not, Breakdown, I'm not thinking of him, I swear I'm only thinking of you. W-what must I do... to prove this?"

"I think you need to open an interface port for me, 'End… if not I'll have to force one open, now won't I?" The times he had forced Dead End into an uplink could be counted on one hand, the Porsche hated it passionately, and so Breakdown saved it for when he really needed the mech to scream. Paranoid as Dead End was, it took force, and a lot of it, to break down his firewalls, force equaled pain… this was going to be good…

"I'm giving you a half breem to decide, 'End… no matter what, it will happen!" He let go of the Porsche's helmet and face, stroking his side panels instead, lingering over the places he knew had interface ports, deliberately being gentle because he knew it would freak his pet out. Dead End wasn't stupid, he had long ago learned that gentle Breakdown meant excruciating pain… still, it was so empowering to feel how he almost radiated hope every time Breakdown became gentle.

No. No, he couldn't... But he was serious, as serious as Dead End have ever seen him. Pit, Breakdown was being gentle... Hope, chances, what did they bring him? Nothing, only pain. That desperate, thin hint of promise, and the need to prove himself to Breakdown, finally decided Dead End. With only a few astroseconds left of his time limit, Dead End opened a port with a low whimper. "P-please, Breakdown..." he hadn't even intended to vocalize that plea, that prayer.

Already begging… Some of his anger turned into arousal and he jammed a digit tip into the open interface port just to hear that sweet whimper before he pulled out his cable and plugged in. His little whore really tried this time, tried so very hard to lower his own firewalls, but failed in the end. Breakdown couldn't care less, he enjoyed ripping his gestalt brother to shreds, inside and out. Arousal grew with every sound, every twitch from Dead End as he reacted to the ruthless destruction Breakdown left behind in his processor. Nothing was protected well enough to stop him.

He snarled with rage as he did find thoughts, images of Megatron in Dead End's mind, some of erotic nature. Delving deeper, he got frustrated when there were no more… the images seemed to be connected purely to this session. Torn between anger and pleasure at this discovery, Breakdown roughly tilted Dead End's head back, ignoring the clang as the back of it hit the wall, and kissed him… or rather, took his mouth, forcing his glossa inside.

Even when he tried to make things better, the pain still found him, it always found him in the end. And as pain and panic finished consuming him, it wasn't Dead End who stood there, uplinked to his gestalt brother, pressed against the wall, and screaming as his mouth was claimed, violated. Right now, it was merely a being willing to do anything, everything, to survive, and perhaps even enjoy this encounter. Dead End was running on pure stimulus response.

Breakdown pulled the cable out, reveling in the sliver of pain the abrupt disconnection brought. Of course, it was nothing compared to what Dead End suffered through right now. Mm… he loved Dead End's screams, if sound could have a taste they would be like sweet mid grade… in the beginning. After a while his screams always got this hopeless desperate edge, became thin and high from strain. That was when they were best and would have tasted like high grade… good refined high grade from Iacon.

Shivering at the echoing pains, Dead End clutched at the wall in an attempt at... well, nothing, really. It just wouldn't do to lay his hands on Breakdown, wouldn't do at all, might make him angrier, even more vicious, if that was even possible. He didn't want to find out if it was possible. Fingers left gouges in the wall as Dead End continued shaking, terrified of what Breakdown would do next... and desperately wanting it.

Well… now that he knew who Dead End was thinking of, he should perhaps reward his pet, after all he had been a good little pet and so deserved a reward. But how, he had never really had occasion to reward him… oh! Now that could be fun, yeah, that could prove very fun… Breakdown let go of his victim and stepped back, easily locating the chair the Porsche had been sitting on. He sat down in it, leaning back and watched his gestalt with narrowed optics.

"Get down on the ground… and crawl to me, I want you to lick my feet…" He was far more tense then he let on, this was the first time he had allowed Dead End any kind of freedom and it was only because he had proven so willing to obey… Well, now, he was about to see just how far the little whore was willing to go, wasn't he.

Dead End gave a whimpering keen as Breakdown left him, LEFT him. Sheer confusion kick-started his though processes again, and he watched Breakdown seat himself. He couldn't believe the words he was hearing. Dead End dropped heavily to the floor, never stopping his keening vocalizations. He needed, he NEEDED release, and there was the thin, so thin promise... If he were very good, if he kept doing exactly what Breakdown told him to... he might get that release. But then, he was already getting a reward, Dead End could recognize that this, as demeaning as it was, was a reward. If he were actually granted an overload in this same session, he might have to re-think his pessimistic outlook.

He glanced at Breakdown for a moment before the maze of cracks in his left optic reminded him not to look, he couldn't dare look at Breakdown, even if the Lamborghini was beyond attractive. Dead End dropped his gaze, pitched forward until he was on hands and knees, and slowly began his crawl, trembling.

His engine started purring when Dead End did as told, the only sound leaving him a high pitched keen, not as good as screaming but definitely new, and right now new was good. It was exhilarating on a whole other level to have someone obey like this, no questions asked, was this what Megatron felt every joor, when all of them scrambled to do his bidding…? There was no question about this, he had to explore this new facet, and Dead End was the perfect test subject!

"Don't make me wait, my little whore, I can always leave you… or… I might tie you to Motormaster's berth, don't you think our leader would find that funny?" Breakdown knew very well that Motormaster would hate it and that he would let the brunt of that anger rain down on the hapless Porsche, but far more importantly, so did Dead End…

The keen cut with a hitch at the casual threat, and Dead End shook so hard that Breakdown could hear him rattling. The Porsche wasted no time on protestations, crawling over as fast as possible with his limbs almost giving out under him. Reaching his destination, Dead End reached out, stopping before he touched the Lamborghini. He had NOT been ordered to touch Breakdown, only to lick him. And so that was what he did, carefully and conscientiously tracing every little bit of Breakdown's feet with his glossa, moaning in humiliation and arousal.

Mm, that got his attention, now didn't it. His optics narrowed as Dead End reached for his foot, lucky for his pet he thought better of it and followed his orders to the letter. Allowing his engine to revved into higher gear was all the approval Breakdown showed, there really was no need to make the Porsche think he had accomplished anything much... Swiftly, he lifted his right foot and pressed Dead End's shoulder on to the floor with it, it hurt, he was sure of that, Dead End was forced to bend at a very unpleasant angle.

"Would you like to continue 'End, hmm? If you beg nicely I'll even let you touch… so let me hear you beg pretty now…"

Whimpering at the position he was forced into, Dead End had to run those words through his processor twice to make sure he'd heard right. He couldn't... No, there was no way, there was no way at all that he might be that lucky. Breakdown was SCARING him, being almost nice... Of course, he HAD forced an uplink, but that wasn't enough reason for his suddenly good mood. "Please, Breakdown, let me continue, let me..." Vents hitched at the thought of asking this, at the thought he might even be allowed to... no, his luck wasn't that could, couldn't be. "Let me touch you? Please... PLEASE, Breakdown, I'll... I'll do anything, just please... oh please, let me continue, let me touch..."

He was good at begging, Breakdown had to admit that, the Porsche sounded so desperate that his spark reacted, sending small, thrilling jolts of energy out like an almost imperceptible staccato pulse. But… he shouldn't allow Dead End to think it was this easy, no, that would be a bad idea!

"I think you forgot something pet… didn't you? Tell me what you forgot to call me…" If he figured it out fast enough he would get his reward, if not… hmm, if not he would just have to punish him.

Forgot...? Forgot to call...? What had he... Dead End felt a long, slow shudder of want and fear and humiliation rack through his frame as he realized just what Breakdown wanted this time. Really, he should have known, Breakdown had been calling him 'pet' and 'whore' this whole time. With a soft sobbing sound, Dead End tried again. "M-master...? Oh... Master, please..."

He shuddered, literally shuddered at the sound of that sob, it was as good a sound as any scream Breakdown had ever gotten out of the Porsche and Dead End was a quick study… it was so pleasing to have the hot little whore at his beck and call! He dragged out answering just to see if he could contain himself. It didn't last very long, he had to feel Dead End's hands on him, such a sweet surrender, after this session the Porsche would be his!

"Good, good… you may touch now Pet, but not above my waist!" He removed the foot holding the Porsche down, cooing his response out, watching the other's reactions through narrowed optics.

Dead End shook as he felt Breakdown's reaction, heard those impossibly wonderful words. The Porsche couldn't help it, his spark jumped when he was given sweet permission. He almost looked up, lifted his head to do so, but again managed to catch himself at the very last second, oh, too close, that had been too close. He'd better make that up to Breakdown, it was very likely his luck would turn bad at any moment, but things were going so unbelievably well. "Thank you, oh, THANK you, Master," the Porsche murmured, watching his hand reach for Breakdown as though it belonged to some other mech. He moaned as he made contact with the Lamborghini's leg, gave himself one small second to fully revel in this allowance, and then began rubbing both hands against Breakdown, leaned in and continued to lick at him as well, moaning and sobbing at the liberty he was allowed, and terrified it would be revoked, painfully.

Freezing for a fraction of a click as it looked like the Porsche was about to look at him... Breakdown relaxed slowly with a displeased hiss, considering if he should allow the slip or punish him for it. A few clicks later he was inclined to let it slip, my had he missed out on something these past orns! Dead End was so skilled with his hands… not to mention his glossa!

"That's a good Pet. Mmm… such a good little Pet." He might actually be able to overload from this, as long as Dead End behaved, that was… He would have to figure out how to reward him if he managed to make him overload. He draped one arm over the chair back and reached out with the other to stroke the black helmet lazily with his digits.

Breakdown was... actually relaxing? Vents hitched again as Dead End realized that... yes, Breakdown was relaxing. And... praising him? The Porsche keened again, softly, as Breakdown stroked him, gently, oh, that was still frightening, but so, so nice... Dead End nuzzled against the legs, letting his hands roam, tracing seams, careful never to go higher than just below the hip joints. If he messed up, if Breakdown stopped him now, Dead End thought his spark might just stop. "Master, thank you," the Porsche murmured again, conscious of just how lucky he was.

He debated the wisdom of allowing Dead End more freedom, after all he was so delightfully, pathetically happy with what he had been allowed until now and those sounds... Breakdown shuddered lightly as his spark pulsed once. But he would have to impose some sort of control before allowing the Porsche more. Hmm… oh! Yes, that would be adequate and sufficient to rattle his paranoid Pet.

"Offline your optics, Whore!" Snarling the order, he gripped tightly at the black helmet, he expected instant obedience…

Dead End gave a brief, panicked shriek as Breakdown seemed to revert to form, snarling at him and gripping roughly. And then the meaning of the words hit him. A flat, toneless wail broke from his vocalizer, but if he didn't blind himself voluntarily, Breakdown would very likely make good on his threat to rip his optics out. And worse, far worse, would go back to hurting him, stop allowing him this delicious freedom of touch, and wouldn't even let him overload. Would leave him a blinded, ruined, shrieking wreck... No, Dead End didn't want that, and so he obeyed the order, plunging himself into blackness. The toneless wail resolved into words, horribly panicked and helpless, "Yes, Master."

Well, almost instantly, and that wail was worth it, so much fear! He didn't relent his grip, tilting Dead End's head back and claiming his dermaplates in another rough kiss, gradually making it softer, gentler, until he let go. The restraint was also worth it, since Dead End shook so hard that his armor rattled.

"Keep your optics off-line, Pet, and you may touch wherever you want… you can even kiss me…" Flat, gentle tone… Breakdown wanted the other to touch him, but it was a large amount of leeway to give his Pet. Still, up till now it had been worth the risk. For Dead End's sake, he hoped it would continue to be so.

Touch... anywhere? Kiss...? This was too good, it couldn't... couldn't possibly be happening, this... had to be... a dream, perhaps. Breakdown was never this gentle, this... lenient. Shaking, terrified, Dead End went back to tracing Breakdown's legs, following a seam upward, stopping again when he reached the hip. With a keening moan, Dead End dared to go higher, tracing the Lamborghini's sides. Breakdown didn't stop him, and vents hitched in gratified shock. Licking his way up Breakdown's thighs, Dead End wound up practically in the sitting mech's lap, carefully stroking his Master. He was too busy licking and kissing to say anything, only letting out tiny moans and gasps of fearful need.

His spark pulsed heavily under the continuing barrage of touches, licks and choked sounds, for the moment he was satisfied, if already thinking about what he could do to make this even more interesting. The Porsche was shifting constantly, not really daring to sit in his lap but needing to support himself to reach higher then Breakdown's waist. He was not eager to help him settle, since the constant scraping of armor against armor felt very good… He had let go of Dead End's head again so that the other had greater freedom to please him, that meant he had two free hands, now what to do with them?

Another shift had his Pet exposing his chest, and, smirking slightly, Breakdown put one hand on the small of Dead End's back, just above his aft, and pressed the other to the seam in his chest, not much pressure… yet. "Do you think you have earned an overload, Pet?" It was tempting to demand a spark merge, but… no, not yet… not before he was sure that this new kind of power was as strong as the physical one. He would not allow Dead End the upper hand in a spark merge!

A dream, yes, this had to be a dream. It was not possible, after all, that Breakdown was really sitting under him, spark pulsing at him, letting him lick and trace and TOUCH... He wished he could see it, Dead End would have liked to see his Master's reactions. It was not worth looking, that would only end the dream, bring the nightmare of existence back. No, better to be blind and allowed to touch in this gentle dream than to return to the reality of screaming and pain.

Hands on his back and chest brought a frightened gasp from Dead End, and he moaned deliriously at the surprisingly soft question. "O-only if... if you s-say I have, M-master," Dead End squeaked out, equal parts fear and need and a thin coloring of hope in his voice. Through supreme effort, he kept himself from pressing harder into Breakdown's hand, from disastrously onlining his optics. Only the pulse of his spark betrayed him, betrayed just how deep that unaccustomed hope ran.

His hand tingling from the pulse of the spark under it, Breakdown began tracing meaningless designs on the plating, thinking his options over… if he rewarded Dead End with an overload now, it was unlikely that the Porsche would stay online, effectively ending this session for some breems. On the other hand, he could then prepare for him waking up again, and that opened so many possibilities…

"You have been such a talented little Pet, I think you have earned the reward…" Pulling the black mech a little closer he scratched lightly at his chest plates and slid his dermaplates along his jaw line, nibbling lightly on the edge of the black helmet. "Open you chest for me… and Pet?"

With a helpless whine, Dead End pushed closer, he couldn't NOT, it felt just too good... He was opening his chest as soon as the order was given, only to freeze at the sudden question, turning blind optics towards Breakdown in what was likely not the smartest move he'd ever made. "Y-yes, Master?" Dead End asked, fear cresting once again. He knew it, he had to have reached the end of his luck, and of course it was now, half sitting on Breakdown, optics offlined and chest opened...

Clenching his hands into fists as Dead End turned his head to look at him he gritted his dental plating together. The Porsche had not onlined his optics and he was very obviously aware of his mistake, and afraid… still, he had to know that Breakdown would only allow so many slip ups. Dumping his burden on the floor he stood, bent over the Porsche and backhanded him hard across his lower face. The dermaplates split from the force, leaking a small trickle of energon. Straddling his gestalt mate's hips, Breakdown bent low over him and licked the energon off, feathering light kisses over the wound.

"Shh… don't try my patience Pet. I'll let you off with this light a punishment only one time! Now… do you still want you reward?" Breakdown's own spark was pulsing faster, the red and black chassis just look delicious like this, sprawled out and shaking, quivering spark exposed. He trailed his digits tips along the inner edge of the chest plate, knowing that the area was highly sensitive and so seldom touched.

"Be a good little whore, and remember to scream for me when you overload… good and loud!"

His luck still held? What had he done, how had he earned such wonderful indulgences? Even the blow was worth it for the instant, GENTLE attention Breakdown gave afterwards. Careful to keep his face turned away from his Master, Dead End arched into the unusual touches with a mewl. "Thank you, Master, yes, yes please... I'll scream, I'll SCREAM for you Master, I promise, please, please reward me Master, please," the Porsche begged, words falling from his dermaplates without his conscious direction. He writhed and shook, half expecting that this was all a cruel joke, that Breakdown would leave him like this, sprawled on the floor and begging for a release he would never get. The fear only made him beg harder.

Sweet music, Breakdown soaked up the frantic pleas with relish, his spark actually gathering energy for a flare caused just by the desperate edge in Dead End's voice. His gestalt mate really needed the release it seemed, it would almost be worth it to just leave him like this… to have him stagger after him begging like this… almost, but that would only work if the Porsche knew he would get something out of begging so prettily. Breakdown was grinning like a maniac, watching every little twitch of the red and black chassis under him, feeling how Dead End was grinding up against his cod piece.

"We'll see, won't we… see if you are good enough to please me…" As it was it seemed that he would be that good… He reached deeper into the open chest, caressing the delicate fuel lines and node bundles that led directly to the spark casing but adroitly avoiding touching the casing itself, no matter how much his victim twitched.

"I'll touch your spark soon enough Pet… you shouldn't be so eager, that's why I call you my little whore. You are so hot, so very willing… Dead End, my Pet... MY whore… Say it!!" Breakdown growled the demand out, reinforcing his dominance by stroking one digit over the spark casing and snatching it away as soon as he felt the Porsche strain against the touch.

Torture, nothing but pure torture, almost worse than Breakdown's normal games of pain. Almost worse, but so infinitely preferable, because it felt so good, hurt so wonderfully. There was no thought of denying Breakdown's demand, Dead End was incapable of even framing such a thought. He let loose a wailing sob as the finger was pulled away. "Yours, I'm yours, Master," Dead End didn't say it so much as he shouted it. "I'm your pet, I'm your whore, Master, PLEASE." The screams echoed through the gestalt's quarters as Dead End writhed helplessly against Breakdown.

Screaming… he had not anticipated that, but by the Unmaker was it satisfying, enough so that his spark flared, making it impossible that Dread End would be allowed escape for the next joor, yes overload… as many as he could wring from his gestalt mate, his little whore, but no escape. Closing his hand around the spark casing, Breakdown leaned down, licked between his own digits, leaving trails of oil on the transparent material. It was burning to the touch, the energy it emanated sending harsh jolts through his glossa…

"You are so tasty, Pet, your screams so sweet… open the casing for me? Unless… do you want me to pry it open… I could even try to make it pleasant instead of hurting…" he had not let go of the spark casing yet, waiting to see what choice Dead End would make, expecting him to vocalize it… forcing him to vocalize it. Always before he had had to force that last barrier open, sometimes breaking the lid or ripping off the clamps, a painful ordeal, but his Pet was so reluctant to allow anyone near his unprotected spark…

Dead End shuddered, hard, as Breakdown's spark FLARED, and the Lamborghini's hand wrapped around his spark chamber, and it DIDN'T HURT, he was still GENTLE, this couldn't be possible! He shuddered, but he didn't dare arch, oh that WOULD hurt, with Breakdown's hand where it was. The question, and he had to be malfunctioning to say this, but maybe if he pleased Breakdown this time, maybe it could be like this more, and anyway, his Master would get what he wanted regardless of what he himself did. In a voice very quiet, very different from the screams he had just been voicing, and would voice again soon, Dead End answered, "I... I'll open for YOU, Master. I... I will..." He shuddered again, and again, as he fought off his fear enough to do as he had said he would, to drop his last defense.

This was power… no pale imitation like what you had on the battle field, which only lasted until you pulled the trigger or someone stronger came and dominated you. Breakdown slowly removed his hand, caressing the casing almost… lovingly. He knew this was going to be hard for his Pet, but considering everything, he should be rewarded for even trying. The mech shuddered and shook, obviously having trouble with fulfilling his promise, but also obviously fighting to do it…

"Ssh, Pet, be easy and take your time…" It was fascinating and arousing to watch the internal fight... Breakdown reached out and began caressing the clasps… the pleasure gained from this would likely help Dead End, encourage him to follow through on his promise. It was strange how much more accomplished he felt using this type of force than after having ripped the red and black mech to shreds… and he wasn't even done yet.

"Such a good whore, so hot… please me and you'll get more of this, my Pet!" Surprisingly, he intended to give him more of this… give them both more of this, it was too good not to do so.

Dead End moaned and whimpered, torn between two desires. He wanted to stay safe, stay protected, but he wanted, oh he wanted, to please Breakdown, please his Master. And Breakdown was being so tender, so patient, soothing him, giving him pleasure, giving him time... He HAD to do this, he simply HAD to open his own spark chamber, he had promised he would. Dead End couldn't see Breakdown to read his mood, but he could hear the satisfaction and enjoyment in his voice. The clasps unlatched, and Dead End gave a wail, he was so CLOSE, but afraid, so afraid... "Yours, yours, I do this... I WILL do this, for you Master, for you," the Porsche muttered, a mantra to himself, and then it was done. He had fully opened to his Master, and done it himself, on his own power. Dead End shook violently, whimpering, irrationally pleased with himself.

Savoring the sense of victory and power he got from the feverish muttering, Breakdown avidly watched the spark chamber open under his digits, and oh, how it pleased him! His spark flared again and he growled lowly, running his digits' tips along the inside of the spark chamber, hissing when tendrils of spark energy reached out and curled around them. It stung, but in a very pleasant way. He bowed down, licking over the pulsing volatile spark, tasting and testing the energy it gave off, Dead End was about to overload…

"Do it, Pet! Scream for me…" He gave the order harshly and plunged his glossa and digits into the spark, knowing that his pet was too far along for the abruptness to hurt… this time his touch would bring only pleasure!

Oh! Oh, it was good... It was GOOD. Dead End couldn't believe how very good it felt, his Master's hands and glossa and OH. Scream, yes, he could do that, it was the very least he could do to thank his Master for this divine pleasure. Dead End arched up, screaming even louder than he had begged, screaming as the overload's pleasure chased away every hurt, and even the fear, made everything just perfect. And then the shaking, and the arching, and the screaming stopped, overload tapering off and leaving Dead End in peaceful, for once, recharge, a little smile on his faceplates.

He was almost satisfied, feeling calm and strangely giddy. Dead End had actually been offlined by the force of his overload… and my, how he had screamed! Slowly sitting up, Breakdown stroked over the edges of the still open spark casing. For a click he considered leaving it open, but no… It had been too arousing to see his Pet fighting himself to please him. Pushing the lid back in place, he noticed that the caresses affected the recharging spark, the glowing orb quivering every time his digits touched the casing. Reluctantly, he closed the black chest plates and got up, musing that the quicker he removed them from the common room the safer they would both be… he had no desire to have Motormaster interrupt his, ahh… training sessions.

* * *

And the change begins. :D Please leave a review! Xobit LOVES reviews...


	3. Chapter 3

Happy birthday, everyone! It's my birthday, and here's your present! Transformers still doesn't belong to us, Xobit wrote breakdown, all that. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Dead End was easy enough to move, a little surprising actually, since the mech usually recharged so lightly that he woke from even imaginary sounds. The Porsche could not have flattered Breakdown more… to think he had caused him to enter such a deep recharged. He used it shamelessly, confining them both to his private room where he put his gestalt mate onto his recharge berth. It wasn't quite right… he needed to do something, something to show his Pet that this was a privilege, not something to take for granted.

He decided that robbing Dead End of his freedom was a good start. Depending on his behavior, he might be allowed loose or receive painful reminders of why it was best to obey, Breakdown had his force whip here, and other 'toys' that he used on occasion…

Dead End onlined slowly, still feeling insanely good. That faded as he took stock of his situation. He was bent backwards over someone's berth, bound uncomfortably, but, surprisingly, not painfully. Onlining his optics achieved nothing, something still cut off his vision, and fear was ever-quick to rise in him. And someone was in the room with him, he could hear them shifting. "Who... who's there?" He didn't like this, oh he didn't like this at all, he was helpless. Whoever was there could do anything, anything they wanted... Maybe... maybe he was still lucky, this entire day had been lucky, it was probably too much to even try hoping for, but just maybe it was still Breakdown and he was still as safe as he'd ever be while bound and helpless in someone's room.

That was a flattering pose, it showed off all the gorgeous contrast points between the red of Dead End's alt mode and the black of his root mode… not to mention that he was forced to show off his codpiece and chest plate. Mm, yes, there were so many things one could do, punishments and rewards... Breakdown shuddered delicately and was rewarded with an instant panicky question. Putting serious thought into his next move, he watched with excitement as fear and panic made the Porsche squirm in his bonds.

Instead of answering he just got to his feet and walked to stand in front of his helpless gestalt mate and loom over him, avidly following the shifting expressions on his faceplates and the quivering of the black dermaplates… that was too much and he swooped down, eagerly claiming them.

Sounds, the only clues Dead End had, told him the other had come closer, he could practically feel the threat as the other stood there. He was being admired, not a very good sign, because WHO WAS THERE? Dead End cried out at the sudden hard kiss, unintentionally opening his mouth to the other. The mech's kiss was familiar, but that meant very little really. Currently the only thing keeping Dead End on anything like this side of sanity was the fact that his spark chamber and chest had both been closed, it would have been too much for him to take if he had onlined helpless and utterly unprotected like that.

His engines kicked in with a deep growling purr as he took advantage of the suddenly open mouth, his spark pulsing heavily, gathering for a flare… unlike Dead End, Breakdown had not yet gained a full release and this time he was going to get it, the only question was how. He let go and stepped back, watched for a click and then began pacing… or maybe the word was prowling back and fourth before his Pet.

"That was good… but not good enough, whore! A Pet should always, and always willingly, give in to his Master." Stopping, he put one foot on the right thigh and pressed down, hard. He could hear the metal ping as it was stressed at angles it was not supposed to be forced into, easing up before it could become truly painful…

"Remember what I told you Pet, if you behave… you are allowed freedom, you can touch, lick…" Drooping his tone into a sensual purr, Breakdown leaned forward, putting more pressure on the leg again… "Displease me, disobey me… and all you'll feel is pain." His aim was dead on as he once again backhanded Dead End across his faceplate, without much force but right on the already split derma plating. Easing his foot off of the leg and to the ground, he waited in silence.

Dead End gave a choked sob of pure relief as Breakdown spoke. He licked at the split briefly, the taste of his energon horribly familiar. "Master, I'm sorry, I was afraid, I didn't know it was you, I'm sorry, forgive me, please." For the first time, Dead End was finding his actions were actually achieving something. They were all going to die sometime, but while he lived, he really preferred not to be in agony. Finally able to do something to positively effect his short life, Dead End was willing to do whatever it took to make his life even marginally better. And this change in Breakdown, well... it was improving his life more than marginally. "Tell me how I can earn your forgiveness, Master, please?"

"You really think… that I would allow anyone else to touch you? You are mine, whore… my Pet, or have you already forgotten that you declared yourself so…" He stilled completely, the words coming out in a low flat tone almost devoid of feelings. In fact, Breakdown was furious and not quite sure why, Dead End was trying his patience badly this time… still, he had asked for a way to make up for his mistakes, hmm…

"Stay still… be quite and don't react to anything… If you can do that until I give you permission to speak again, then I might allow you to further redeem yourself!" he knew it was a task that the Porsche would find horribly hard but that was that… either he could do it and would get a reward or he would fail and taste the sting of a force whip, he was, after all, so nicely displayed for just that activity. Without speaking further, Breakdown turned and walked out of the room, heading for the rec room and the energon dispenser, where he drew both his own and Dead End's rations, stashing them in his subspace before sneaking into the med bay to snag a tube of solder… no matter how this session went they were bound to end up needing it...

Oh. He hadn't realized Breakdown was quite THAT... possessive, because protective was NOT the word to use. It was probably a good thing that he was forbidden from responding, he would have messed up even worse, Dead End just knew it. That tone, that horrible flat tone... And then Breakdown walked away. He could hear the steps retreating, leaving him alone, still bound, helpless... he couldn't even scream, couldn't do anything to relieve the fear which was eating at him again. He wasn't even allowed to tremble, but it was impossible to stop that, and Dead End tried, oh, how he tried. Breakdown was going to come back and find him shaking, and that was a reaction, and he had failed, he was going to displease his Master because he couldn't stop shaking, he couldn't STOP, and Breakdown was going to hurt him again, and it was all going to be his fault because he couldn't control his fear.

He noticed it immediately as he stepped through the door to his quarters… Dead End was a wreck, shaking so badly that he had slipped a little, even in his tight bonds… he would have to punish him then, but since it had been unintentional he could keep it light, after all, what Breakdown really wanted was to feel the Porsche's hands and dermaplates on his armor again… worshiping him as only someone submerged in fear could. Setting the energon cubes aside for later, he went to get one of his most beloved 'toys' out of its casing. The whip was small, it would not apply lasting damage with its twelve tendrils, but every hit would sting and burn as if the armor were melting around the sensor nodes.

"I am disappointed Pet, so very disappointed… I will have to hurt you…" Breakdown murmured softly, an edge of half felt regret coloring his voice, before he continued speaking in a louder, firmer tone, detailing what he expected from the Porsche. "Listen carefully, I need you to count out the hits, every time you fail you will have to start over! I will stop when you reach ten… understand me, Pet?"

The humming of the whip was high and sharp, different from that of the larger, heavier ones often used for torture, he lifted it and flickered his wrist, hissing when the tendrils fell around his arm and set off sensor nodes…mmm, yeah, he liked this toy so much. The first strike was swift, landing across the pushed out codpiece…

Dead End had to bite his glossa to keep from shrieking apologies to his already angry Master. As he had known, Breakdown was displeased, and now he would hurt Dead End. Well, his luck had to break sometime. The pain was almost a relief when it came, his fear fading away somewhat. It didn't hurt as much as he had expected, or rather, it didn't hurt in the MANNER he'd expected. Breakdown seemed uncharacteristically concerned that he not damage his Pet, something for which Dead End was grateful. Count, he was supposed to count, only ten though, that seemed so little... Not his place to decide how much punishment he deserved, that was the Master's decision, he only had to accept and obey the orders he was given. "O-one," and he was still shaking so badly that he could barely form the word.

"Good Pet… good…" Breakdown crooned, pleased that Dead End was so willing to follow orders. The second and third lash landed on each thigh. Spread as they were, the position allowed the tendrils of the whip to wrap around the metal structure and even into armor seams. Breakdown varied the time between hits, knowing that anticipation of hurt could be worse than the pain itself. Fourth and fifth landed on the awkwardly stretched shoulders. While stuttering the numbers out, his Pet still managed to count, sometimes a little delayed but never enough to warrant extra hits.

"Brace yourself now Pet, this will hurt a lot more…" This time he landed two hits almost on top of each other, one to the flexible stomach section and one where he flicked the very tips of the tendrils against Dead End's chest plates.

"E-eight!" the count came out in a shriek, never mind what he had thought earlier, ten lashes were in no way too few. Two more, two more, he could do this, his punishment was almost served... Two more, but they were going to hurt the worst. His nodes already felt like they were on fire... "Nine!" Dead End wailed as the blow landed fully against his chest, tendrils burning against the seams that covered his spark chamber. He flinched, and the thin metal over his wrist joins, already chaffed by the trembling that had caused this, parted, letting the bindings scrap against wires and tubing. Almost done, one left, at least he knew it would end there, as long as he got that count out IT WOULD END, and he had to hold to that, or else he would miss the count and they'd have to start all over again.

Pausing for several clicks, Breakdown just looked at the Porsche. He really did look beautiful, vents heaving, pain and fear written all over his faceplates, frame shaking… so sad that he would have to untie him afterwards, if not he would lose the use of his hands for a joor or more. Breakdown cracked the whip once before striking out, landing the last blow on the top of the chest plates and across the unprotected neck, the tendrils easily wrapped themselves around the neck joint…

The word, "TEN!" was comprehensible in the midst of Dead End's choked screaming, but only just barely. The yells cut off as pained sensor nodes blocked the Porsche's control and he fell into helpless clicking. Dead End would have to reboot his vocal processes before he could speak again... it wouldn't take more than a breem, but it was certainly not something to do with that whip around his neck.

His spark flared as his Pet screamed out the last count, by the Unmaker that was empowering… clicking intruded on Breakdown's thoughts and he knelt down, delicately removing each tendril from around Dead End's neck. The whip burned his digits, but he enjoyed the small pain too much to forgo the chance of feeling it and at the same time caress the places where his toy had touched the black armor. His Pet was magnificent! So obedient, taking everything in, pain and pleasure…

"That was so hot, my Pet! So very arousing to watch…" Tossing the toy aside, he stroked over Dead End's shivering form. Leaning on him to reach the restraining bonds, Breakdown easily removed them.

The clicking tapered off as the whip was slowly removed, Breakdown's hands tender against Dead End. The Porsche didn't think he quite dared reset his vocalizer quite yet, he should wait until he was told to, most likely. He arched up, lightly, into Breakdown as the Lamborghini bent against him, he couldn't help it. It hurt where he'd been struck, but his Master was warm, and maybe this way he could express his repentance and desire, and anyway, he couldn't stop himself.

So eager already… it was hard not to just enjoy what was so willingly given, but in the end he wanted more out of this encounter, and for that to happen Dead End had to be free. Righting himself, Breakdown supported the Porsche with a firm grip on his shoulder armor as he had to find his equilibrium again, now that his arms weren't forcing him to lean on the berth anymore.

"Tell me what you would like to do, Pet? Come on, don't be afraid… just speak up…" It was a test of sorts… he was hoping, yes, hoping that Dead End would ask for something to be done to him, or allowance to do something…

Speak up... but he couldn't speak, had Breakdown forgotten that already...? Or was it a test, oh, that had to be it. He clicked wildly again, hesitantly motioning at his own neck. It was intended as a reminder, and hopefully an explanation as well. If Breakdown interrupted the sequence, Dead End would be mute until some actual repairs were done... Did he want him to start it?

His vocalizer was shot… well of course it was! Breakdown mentally smacked himself, one thing was demanding things that could be done, even if difficult, another was making stupid assumptions, and he did not want Dead End to damage his vocalizer just now… he did not need him to scream this time, but oh, it would be sad to miss out on those sweet noises he made when granted allowance, or the gasps and sobs of pure need… mm…

"Shh… take your time Pet, we have time… come, come here, yes, stand up." His words made the frantic clicking abate, though occasionally a few still escaped… the uncertainty on Dead End's faceplate was arousing, but he wanted him up off the floor now and onto the berth.

Care. How odd... but then, Breakdown did take care of his possessions. After all, he didn't want them to break until HE broke them... But Dead End had never considered that the same care might be directed to him, no matter what the circumstances were. Then again, he had said it, hadn't he? He was Breakdown's, his pet, his whore... his possession. And now he learned the benefit of such an arrangement. Dead End couldn't tell if he should start the sequence now or not, decided that he shouldn't, Breakdown would be furious if his pet damaged himself. He stood up slowly, shaking, no choice but to allow his Master to support him, but Dead End didn't mind.

It was odd that he had never considered doing this before, hm, goes to show that even inferior beings could develop good ideas… this way he got a lot more out of Dead End for a lot less work, and odds were that the Porsche, out of his own free will, would come crawling to him for more in the near future. Mm, what a nice image, Dead End on his knees, begging to be dominated, taken and abused…

"Get on the berth Pet, yes, like that… now listen carefully!" Stroking the Porsche idly with his right hand, Breakdown set about imprinting a few ground rules. "Don't damage yourself, especially not your vocalizer… Understand Pet, I like you vocal! I won't damage you nor cause you more pain then what you force me to, don't disobey me Pet, it will cost in the end no matter how good it feels at the time…" He turned slightly on the berth, now stroking with both hands, his optics eagerly and possessively appraising the gorgeous red and black chassis on his berth.

Never had he thought that Breakdown, of all mechs, would warn him against damaging himself. And Dead End would obey that, it wasn't like he WANTED to damage himself. It wasn't like he wanted to be damaged at all, but some things were inevitable, and damage was one of those things. Don't disobey, he already knew that one, and Breakdown had made it VERY obvious that disobedience had a price, a painful one. Dead End was glad the rules were, so far, simple... he couldn't focus on anything complicated right now, not with his Master stroking him so nicely, and for once he wasn't even afraid of the gentleness, though he still shook and kept his face turned away. He was blindfolded, true, and had even offlined his optics again, but keeping his face turned meant Breakdown would know he wasn't even trying to look. He clicked twice, nodding to show his understanding.

"That's a good Pet…" Breakdown softly cooed small words of praise, while exploring Dead End's chassis. Curiosity, he had forced interfacing on the Porsche many times, but had always needed to use excessive force, damaging and painful… robbing him of the chance to really feel the smooth finish. All the Stunticons were vain to some degree, Dead End too, though one never saw him actually do any maintenance on himself, and Breakdown could now feel and appreciate the care that he obviously took… his armor was smooth , like new, not a blemish to feel.

"You look so nice like this 'End, my little whore, all spread out on my berth, ready for anything I have for you, can think of doing to you, mm… I think you need to spend your time like this a little more often!"

Dead End wished he could moan and let his Master know just how grateful he was for situation. He'd be willing to stay here, if it meant that Breakdown stopped ripping him to shreds whenever they interfaced. He'd even accept the pain sometimes, as long as it wasn't every time his life would be better, and that was enough. He couldn't moan, though, and so instead Dead End nodded again, hesitantly, oh very carefully, squirming under the Lamborghini's hands. 'Touch me more,' he silently begged with his movements. 'I'll do whatever it takes to keep you happy.'

"Like this, do you? Hm, I guess you have earned a small reward for taking you punishment so well. You did try very hard not to disobey me in the first place…" Leaning down he licked slowly over the Porsche's audio receptor, moving down to his neck joint, mouthing the pliant metal and probing the small seams with his glossa. He had to support himself on one arm to do so, but put the other to good use, caressing Dead End's chest plates gently, following each seam, never invading them, keeping the touch light and teasing.

What he really wanted to do was touch Breakdown again, touch and please his Master. Of course, that was partly because this, as nice as it was, still brought forth fear, light and fleeting, but there. He wondered... He HAD been told to speak up about what he wanted, not that he could speak, but... Arching up, his vents kicking higher, Dead End gave a click, deliberate, trying to get the Lamborghini's attention. Hoping he had it, after all, he couldn't see, Dead End reached towards the body he could feel over him, hoping to stop before he got too close. He was doing a lot of hoping recently, the Porsche realized.

Grasping the hand reaching for him, Breakdown carefully brought it to his faceplate, licking the very tips of Dead End's digits, before laying them against his cheek plates and letting go. Interesting that he would use such bold means to convey his desire. Of course, with his vocalizer out of commission he didn't have much choice, and he was shaking…

"Go on Pet, you may touch…"

He didn't waste time trying to impart his thanks, it wouldn't have worked anyway. There were better ways to show how he felt, after all, and his Master had placed his hand against his cheek... He wouldn't have dared touch there himself, but as it was... Trembling, Dead End traced the Lamborghini's face, fascinated by how smooth it felt. He wasn't allowed to look, perhaps that would come someday, if he were VERY good, but touching... it helped him to imagine how Breakdown looked. White and blue chassis, it must contrast beautifully with his own dark red and black... and the bright red of his Master's face under his hand... His spark pulsed as his processor painted vivid pictures and he cautiously let his hand roam, slowly bringing up his other hand as well

What power… the simple gesture of allowing his Pet to touch his face was enough to make Dead End's spark pulse. Breakdown was pleased, his engine purred and he curled his digits into the Porsche's center chest seam, smoothly dragging them downwards in a prolonged teasing caress. Mm… Dead End had such a gentle touch, was so very careful, all too aware of what would happen if Breakdown was displeased with him. At the moment his Pet could be at ease, he was enjoying himself too much to even think of harming him.

"Nice… hm, very nice, my Pet…" Obviously his encouragement worked, since another set of shaking digits joined the first on his face plate. Rewarding the Porsche for his boldness, Breakdown leaned minutely into the stroking hands.

Had... had Breakdown actually done that? Actually moved into his touch? Slightly more confident, Dead End felt audios, dermaplates, clicked fearfully and drew back as he brushed against optics. The hand, gentle! on his chest made him wonder, would he be expected to open again? Would he be able to? ...well, yes, to please his Master, yes. But what about Breakdown, what about his pleasure... He needed to stop worrying about it. His Master would tell him what to do when the time came, let his Master worry about it. Let his Master decide... scary concept, giving Breakdown such control, but it had proven good in each case so far, had improved Dead End's life quite a bit.

"Don't stop 'End, I told you that you could touch!" Disgruntled that the Porsche had drawn back from him, Breakdown caught one trembling hand and placed it back on his faceplates, digit tips resting under his optic. While his fear was… complimentary, his near disobedience was not!

"I will allow one slip, my Pet, but only one, if you do it again a punishment will follow…" he growled out since the other hand was slow to return to his armor, and right now he wanted to feel the Porsche's touch… hmm… "A task is perhaps what you need, my little whore, to make you understand… bring me to overload, I'll tell you when something is not allowed… and Dead End?"

He leaned down low to whisper straight into an audio receptor, "Remember what I will do if you fail!" Forcing open an interface port and jamming a digit tip against the exposed opening, Breakdown felt the red and black chassis freeze under him.

Okay, note to self. Master says I can touch, then I can fragging well touch. Addendum to note. Stopping touching without him telling me to pisses him off. Don't do that. And then Dead End's nice ordered thoughts shattered under the familiar barrage of fear, but Breakdown was only make a point. It was a simple enough task he'd been given, enjoyable even, not one he'd want to fail even without the threatened punishment. Clicking just a little, the Porsche showed he understood the lesson by intentionally brushing his hand against the optic it had been placed under, just for a moment before dropping down to Breakdown's jawline. How to bring his Master to overload... Well, there was always the obvious route of spark manipulation, but Dead End wasn't brave enough to try THAT, not with his Master already annoyed. Still, it might come to that...

He kept one hand on Breakdown's face while the other once again explored his torso. Levering himself up, Dead End dared to lick the Lamborghini's jaw before flicking his glossa against dermaplates. It didn't seem right to kiss like that, though, and instead the kiss was laid on the top of Breakdown's chest, hesitantly. Dead End simply had to accept that he would be stopped if he did something wrong, and hope that Breakdown wouldn't take offense at any unwitting errors.

Much better, Dead End was really quite good, yes, a very cleaver Pet who followed his orders very well! It was clear that while he might like a kiss he was not ready to brave breaking his orders and take it, also good… At some point he would allow him more freedom to choose his own actions, but not yet… not before he was sure that his word would be taken as absolute law, Dead End's world was going to revolve around Breakdown and only Breakdown, he would see to that! Shifting subtly on the berth he lowered himself a fraction, a reward of sorts, so that the Porsche could reach him easier, allowing his engine to pick up speed, its purr intensifying.

"Go on Pet, show me how good you can make me feel…"

He HAD lowered, Dead End was sure of it, his Master had lowered, moved into his touches. And the sound of his engine, oh, it was so nice... He was careful and through, using his hands to learn the chassis he couldn't see, fingering seams, where had he gotten the most reaction last time? Dead End couldn't remember, he'd just have to experiment again, though he'd better remember this time. Across the sides and torso, ghosting across hips and thighs, his fingers danced, while the Porsche carefully licked at shoulders and chest-armor.

Dead End was very good, no question about that, but his touches were just a little too light and often he didn't linger where it felt best... Still, he was trying, and this was only the second time he had been allowed to touch, the first of being ordered to overload him. Not the last by all means, especially not if he succeeded, that goal was, however, somewhat far from the Porsche's grasp as things stood now. Growling a bit as, once again, digits were removed all too quickly from the sensitive white plating of his thighs, Breakdown shifted slightly away, annoyed that the pleasure he got from Dead End was not enough to allow him to ignore his awkward position.

"Move away, Pet!" The order was snapped out but the anger not really directed at his flinching pet, who scrambled to move out of the way, pressing into the wall as soon as he located it. Settling himself against the wall at the head of the berth, Breakdown thoughtfully watched the shivering Porsche…

"Come here, my Pet. Don't worry, you have not done anything wrong…" 'Yet' hung unvoiced at the end of that sentence, a hint of a snarl in his tone, after all his pet was so beautiful and dedicated when in the grip of fear!

Trembling, Dead End crawled towards his Master's voice. He was sure he'd be having an easier time of this if he could moan, make the noises Breakdown enjoyed... ask questions, maybe, instead of blindly acting. Was he still allowed to touch, still under his earlier orders? He didn't want to mess up again, although it seemed he already had. But he had been TOLD not to worry... Thoughts ceased as his hand found Breakdown's leg, and Dead End made what he hoped was the right choice, trailing his digits against the smooth metal with a click.

Hm… perhaps verbal directions were needed, Dead End was still too careful, his touch too light and his movements much too fast. Breakdown wavered between letting his pet bumble along, discovering by trial and error, and giving him actual pointers. Right now he did feel pleasure, but nothing remotely strong enough to touch his spark or make him particularly vocal. Reaching out, he grasped and carefully bent back the Porsche's head, not enough to hurt but enough that he could have seen his optics if they had not been beneath the blindfold.

"Harder Pet, I need you to be more forceful, and slower… You are not allowing me to enjoy your touch."

Shocked that Breakdown would do anything that even hinted at willingly enduring another's gaze, Dead End almost missed the directions. Oh, he had been so stupid, of course he was being too light, he should have known from Breakdown's lack of reaction. Unconsciously nuzzling at the hand that pulled his head up, Dead End obeyed the order, trying again to remember how he had touched the first time. That's right, he had done THIS... A black hand pressed into a white seam, his Master wasn't as fragile as he had been treating him. Again, slower, he shouldn't be imitating a a petro-rabbit on jetfuel.

Better, much better! Moaning in approval, Breakdown let go of Dead End's head, instead opting to stroke his helmet gently, it was as smooth to the touch as the rest of the red and black chassis. Firm, lingering strokes and hesitant licks, mm, it was so nice when Dead End finally understood an order… he was such a good, obedient pet.

"Like that my little whore, just like that! Mm… I might just have a reward for you if you continue obeying… would you like that? Yes, of course you would…" He could feel the Porsche trembling in response to his words, his pet so wanted the pleasure he dangled just out of his reach…

Oh, THAT was what he wanted to hear, his Master was moaning, he was doing well... And this was much more enjoyable, actually, taking his time like this. Not that it mattered, no, Dead End was only supposed to please his Master, not himself. He nodded pointlessly at Breakdown's offer, of course he would like a reward, what semi-sane mech wouldn't? He needed to stop thinking about that, he needed to focus on his Master, he needed to make his Master overload. That would be interesting, was Breakdown even capable of overloading without hurting his partner? Well, it was up to Dead End to find out, so he had been ordered and so he would do.

Shifting slightly, Breakdown parted his legs to allow the Porsche more access, truly it was hard to decide what brought him more pleasure, Dead End's obedience or his caresses… It was a powerful heady rush to have him like this, there would still be times where he ripped his pet apart but this brought on a lingering satisfaction, a satisfaction that even made him somewhat lenient towards his pet. His spark pulsed lazily, beginning the process of building energy for flares and ultimately overload.

Dead End's vents stuttered as the pulse hit him, and he would have moaned if he were able. That at least was proof that he was doing something right, and his own spark pulsed in answer. He was tracing sides now, listening carefully for any clues on what do, focusing on how his Master's body moved against him. Every moment brought Breakdown, hopefully, closer to overload, but the closer they got, the worse the reaction would be if Dead End messed up yet AGAIN.

As Dead End moved closer and his caresses higher, Breakdown moved his light stroking from helmet to neck, from neck to shoulders and finally sides and back plating. It was nothing more than teasing caresses, fleeting and unsatisfying, the exact opposite of what was done to his own chassis. He didn't stop vocalizing, moaning and hissing whenever Dead End hit sensitive spots, leaning minutely against the hands, caressing him when he wanted them to stay longer, occasionally even wording approval as his pet got better at reading his subtle hints.

"Good Pet… ah! Yes, there…" The Porsche's hands where nearing Breakdown's interface ports on both sides of his chassis. Quirking his dermaplates slightly, he opened both, wondering what his pet would make of that gesture…

The petting was nice, he supposed, gentle, at least, if annoyingly light. Well, wasn't that what he had been doing to his Master? He had been very lucky then, that Breakdown hadn't gotten more angry. Of course, the ever-present feathering touches were reminders that his Master might, at any moment, hurt him again, for no other reason than that he wanted to. Dead End didn't fight the fear, he knew his Master liked him afraid, and the fear would keep him focused on not messing up. Fear was nearly his undoing when Breakdown opened his ports. Dead End froze, clicking, before forcing himself to keep touching, keep rubbing and pleasing Breakdown. Still clicking, the only release he could give his fear, he tried to figure out what his Master wanted. He wasn't going to uplink, not without a direct order, and even then... Dead End shivered at the thought. Well... interface ports were sensitive, he knew that VERY well. Maybe... maybe Breakdown just wanted them touched? Okay, that was a fairly scary idea, but the Porsche knew better than to ignore something like this. Without direction, he would just have to do the best he could, and hope very hard that he didn't anger his Master.

Oh, that clicking! What a nice reaction to get from such a simple thing... Breakdown had no particular wishes as to what Dead End should do with his open ports, but what did it matter, all he expected at this point was for his pet to please him…

"Be creative my Pet, I will stop you if I am displeased with your ideas!" A threat more than a promise and yet he couldn't help for it to come out in a husky purring tone as his spark pulsed again, much stronger this time, reacting to the stimulation and the anticipation in equal parts.

Yes, he knew quite well that his Master would stop him if he were displeased. It was the MANNER he might stop him that concerned Dead End. But oh, that purr, the desire his Master held for him... Normally it would terrify him. Now... Right now, Dead End found himself yearning for it. He fingered the Lamborghini's ports, lightly at first before frowning at himself and using a firmer touch. Creative, huh... how was he supposed to be creative? Hmm... Dead End bent in, licked one carefully, trying to figure out just what he could do.

Tensing a little at the ghost of a touch to his open port, Breakdown was ready to snarl at the far too light touch, but Dead End redeemed himself quickly and he relaxed again. Jerking hard at a sudden, foreign, and very pleasant touched, he turned his head down to see what the Porsche was doing… 'mm well, what do you know!' Grasping Dead End's helmet again, Breakdown pressed faceplates against his side with a low husky growl.

"Oh no Pet, I think you are staying right there for a while… ah AH! Yeah, right MMM… THERE…" Arching off the wall in reaction to the pleasurable, yet hesitant touch, he almost roared out the last bit, pressing harder on the helmet in his grasp and stroking over red back plating in a real caress.

Oh, THAT was the sort of response he wanted! Dead End let his own engine rev for a moment, the only sound he could offer his Master. Breakdown liked having his port licked... so, how far in could Dead End get his glossa? It wasn't like he could do anything else, his Master wasn't about to let him move... wait. What would the reaction be... if he stroked the other port while licking at this one? Only way to find out was to try, so Dead End tried.

Motormaster was the only invasive 'lover', if you could call it that, that Breakdown had ever had, the only one he ever wanted to experience, and yet this was an invasion… Dead End was doing everything in his, strictly limited, power to please and oh, what a good job the Porsche was making of it! His spark pulsed again, only to launch an aggressive flare when digits firmly massaged his other open port. This time he did roar, wordlessly arching and writhing, still holding Dead End's head firmly in place…

Dead End spared a moment to smile to himself, pleased with the noise he had earned. His Master was flaring for him, and the Porsche pulsed back, daring to press against the Lamborghini who writhed under him. Not to trap, no, but to feel, to feel and to be felt... His Master liked what he was doing, that was abundantly obvious, and so Dead End continued doing exactly that, exploring one port quite thoroughly with his glossa, and exploring the other with his hand, being careful to neither hurt nor be too light.

His pet dedicated himself willingly to the task, even going so far as to boldly press into him, his spark pulsing clearly showing that it was arousing to him too. Breakdown could have taken exception to that, since he had not said anything about allowing the Porsche an overload yet. However, he wanted his pet with him now, he had… plans.

Wanting another kind of attention, as well as offering his pet a new test, Breakdown parted his chest plates and yanked the Porsche up, a little roughly, but not hurtfully so. Once he was sure that Dead End would stay upright, Breakdown grasped his hands and led them to back his interface ports before pushing his pet's head against his spark casing just as the spark flared again.

For a moment he was afraid he'd done something wrong, even though Breakdown wasn't hurting him... yet. Dead End didn't realize that Breakdown's chest was open until his face was shoved against a spark chamber and a flare from close range burned through his pathways. It felt... beyond good, really. Oh, he probably should do something... Continuing his stimulation of the ports with both hands, Dead End trailed a long lick across the casing, shaking a little as the energy tingled against his glossa. Now this... this was even better than what he had been allowed before, his Master was letting him do this, and Dead End wasn't even in pain as a price. Sure, his vocalizer wasn't working, but that had been his own slagging fault.

"AH! Good… good 'End, mm my Pet… mine!" Spreading both hands out on the Porsche's back plating, Breakdown caressed every inch he could reach, hands randomly and involuntarily clenching from the stimulation to his ports and spark while he feverishly muttered encouraging and possessive words. He had to admit that Dead End had turned out a better pet then he could have dreamed, he was… happy that he had followed the notion of rewarding him... really, he was quite satisfied that he had taken the time to observe those strange humans. Weak, pathetic and backwards as they were, they apparently had a good thing or two in their 'culture', 'heh, won't save them, didn't save them'.

Thinking about killing the flesh creatures, destroying their lairs, spiked his arousal, and Breakdown clutched Dead End closer to his chassis, his engine revving before settling into an overworked roar that almost drowned out his lust filled moans and growls. Overload was so close…

Something had made him happy, Dead End didn't think he really wanted to know what. All that really mattered was that Breakdown was happy, and sounded so nice... Dead End had never been able to hear the Lamborghini's voice in overload, he'd always been too busy screaming himself and trying not to offline. And Dead End suddenly realized in an odd, detached way, that this wasn't a dream, and it wasn't a fantasy. He really was frantically exploring Breakdown's open interface ports, licking and throughly tracing Breakdown's spark chamber, and he was going to make his Master overload, and this was really happening. He was owned, a toy, a pet, a whore, and it was probably the best thing that could have happened to him.

Close, and yet it surprised him, not so much that it happened but the sheer force of it. Breakdown had always been too… careful to allow anyone, even Motormaster, to bring him to overload alone. It had earned him a beating or two, but rather that than to be at the mercy of his insane leader! It was too dangerous, too much of an exposure to fall offline with a lover, always he held to rigid control, even of his own overloads, blocking their full potential unless he was self overloading… this was so much better… Why he allowed Dead End to do it he didn't know, but as Breakdown slipped into reboot he felt thoroughly satisfied with the decision.

Dead End wasn't particularly surprised when Breakdown overloaded, that had, after all, been the entire point of this endeavor. He was, however, flatly shocked when the Lamborghini started to reboot. Pulling away, he wished yet again that he dared to risk looking at what was surely a beautiful sight. He didn't dare it, though, and instead tenderly closed the chest plates and interface ports, trying to ignore his renewed arousal. With his Master's vulnerable areas once again protected, Dead End sat up and returned to the foot of the berth, curling up as small as he could. He had time now to reboot his vocalizer, and that would be a relief, to be capable of talking again. After the sequence finished, less than a breem, exactly like he'd thought, he gave a very soft moan, just to reassure himself that he COULD, and then settled to wait, optics still offline below the blindfold.

* * *

:D Please leave a lovely review!


	4. Chapter 4

A little interlude. Remember the humans Breakdown thought about last chapter? Well... here they are. This chapter is entirely by Xobit, edited by me. We'll get back to the main story next chapter.

* * *

Breakdown was never happy, his bad temper and vicious nature earning him a reputation larger Decepticons envied and feared. It of course made him hated too, but he didn't really care about that, the Stunticons were intimate with hate. Their leader Motormaster was insatiable, brutal, hateful and, well, the perfect Decepticon. Today Breakdown was more than unhappy, he was seething with barely withheld fury and he let it all out on the pathetic organic world around him. He did not mind the task of scouting anymore then he minded all tasks he had not chosen himself, but he hated Motormaster's orders! He hated the feel of the larger mech's hands on him, of the large blunt finger tips forcing his plating aside… Motormaster loved to do it too, forcing Breakdown to submit to a strength he could not match and seeing the disgust in his overly bright optics. It had been a long time ago that Motormaster had stopped trying to break him and instead had started to use his disgust and helplessness as fuel for his interfacing sessions. At times Breakdown wished that their gestalt were more normal, but they had been made from wildly different mechs forced into the gestalt, not on lined as one. Menasor, their over mind, reflected nicely how they felt about that. He destroyed with relish, hated everything…

Crashing through underbrush with wild, reckless abandon, Breakdown felt something dig painfully at his undercarriage and transformed instantly. Turning around he spotted the rock that had injured him. Cursing, he stood up, checking his diagnosis system and groaning when it informed him the repairs would take roughly a joor. Just fragging fantastic, he was stuck in root mode near a populated area and he had to keep a low profile. The orders had been no killing of anyone or anything! The 'mission' was a joke and a punishment, Breakdown knew that, but… He wasn't about to risk brig time, no, Motormaster was already pissed off, brig time would only make it all worse. Retreating deeper into the forest, Breakdown found himself a place to rest, entering a light recharge to aid his self repair systems.

About 18 breems later, Breakdown woke to the sounds of human activity, vehicles. He still couldn't transform and wondered idly how long his brig time would end up being. Another human sound caught his attention... the creatures had apparently exited their primitive vehicles and were talking, laughing, and… barking orders? That tone was not to be mistaken for anything else, though Breakdown could not hear any of the annoying furred creatures the humans liked so much, so what were they ordering about? Turning up his audio receptors' sensitivity, he turned to face the direction of the sounds and flinched at a sharp crack. The sound was followed by a moan and laughter.

"That's a good pet! Now try to keep still, moving will only get you more pain… do you understand me?" the tone was… tender, but still unmistakably an order, it also sounded like the human was talking to another human, calling it 'pet' as if it was one of the furry creatures.

"Yes, Master… I understand, Master." The second voice reminded him of Starscream… no, not Starscream! Of Dead End, when he begged him to be gentle, not that Breakdown ever answered the plea. But this human... there was a quality to the pleading, as if it knew that there would be pleasure after the pain. Other humans attended whatever it was, he could hear them though they did not speak. Another crack made him flinch and he heard the sound of something hitting organic flesh, a pained yelp and the following moan. He had to get closer to this, see what in the pit was going on! Breakdown moved carefully, timing as best he could with the sounds from the humans. He also switched his optical mode so that they would not betray him to the squishies. Luckily for him, the gathering was louder now. Some of the other humans were talking quietly and a there were lots of very quiet moaning and whimpering. The sight that met him was… well, he had not been expecting anything from the primitives, really…

There were sixteen humans in one of those tamed clearings they called gardens, in front of a building of decent size. Nine were standing, eight in a semi circle with six others sitting in front of them or leaning on their legs. The last two were the interesting party. One, very naked male, was chained to an iron post with another, dressed, male behind him, applying a tool to the first one's back, a tool that looked suspiciously like a force whip. He wasn't drawing fluids but the back was getting an interesting striped effect from the treatment, one Breakdown was sure wasn't normal for a human.

Of course he knew humans employed torture, but this was not torture, at least not from what he could tell. The one handling the whip kept telling his chained 'pet' that it would be over soon and that there would be a reward because he was such a good 'pet'. Interestingly enough, the rest of the humans seemed to have the same relations. The ones kneeling and sitting were referred to as pets and they all had fewer of the clothing items on them then the standing ones. Suddenly the whip user threw down his tool and stepped up to the chained one.

"That was a good pet! Now, are you ready for you reward?" the male was stroking over the other's hips, pulling him out from the post a little and spreading his legs.

"Yes Master… please Master, please!?" The position was utterly degrading, especially in front of everyone, but the pet seemed to be oblivious as his aft was fondled and… what in the Unmaker's name was… Oh… Finally, Breakdown realized that he was seeing a sexual encounter, it was both disgusting and fascinating, very much organic, with fluids and things being put into different openings. Apparently the end of the whipping had been a signal for the other humans, for they began their own intercourses, males with females, females with females…

Breakdown really didn't consider the pairings odd, more the different types of styles. Some put their glossas into ports, others their plugs into mouths, exhaust pots and valves. It was confusing, messy, and should not have aroused him, but it did. Or rather, the fact that some of them ordered the others around, to go slower or faster, that some of them begged for pain, pleasure, to be taken… He found himself wondering if his gestalt brother would sound so needy if he ever gave him the chance. Of course the whole thing was at its height when a call came through on his comm.

-Breakdown! Where in the pit are you… your report is needed now!- Frenzy sounded angry, the fact that it was Frenzy and not Soundwave told volumes, even to a degree scared Breakdown.

-I had an accident, and since my orders were to not kill anyone I'm stuck here for the foreseeable future. Go complain to someone else, sparkling…- If he couldn't kill them, he at least wanted to watch them, they had some interesting techniques.

-What do you mean not kill? There's nothing about not killing in the mission orders. Just finish them off and report to base… before Megatron decides that Menasor isn't needed after all.- Wow, Frenzy had to be really out of it when he sounded worried about a gestalt team. The casseticons were generally not fond of any of the gestalts, likely he wasn't now either, but simply fearful in general, which meant that Megatron was on a rampage. How Breakdown wished he could just kill Motormaster… though he was rather happy he had gotten to observe this gathering. Now, however, it was time to make them really scream!

-Fine then, I'll be there in five breems.- Another kind of anticipation and arousal shot through Breakdown now, as he stood up and powered up his optics. It was indeed time to have a little fun...

* * *

Hope you liked! Please leave a review!


	5. Chapter 5

Back to the main story for y'all.  Transformers ain't ours, same people played the same thing, disclaimers get BORING at times...  


* * *

Regaining consciousness, the first thing Breakdown was aware of was that his chest and ports were closed again, the second thing, that he was alone, or rather, that no warm chassis was pressed to his. It actually managed to annoyed him slightly, even as he applauded the care Dead End had taken in closing his chest and ports for him. On-lining his optics, he made a somewhat frantic sweep of his quarters, a sense akin to relief settling in his processor when he finally located his pet. Dead End was curled up at the foot of the berth, his chassis still radiating an abnormal level of heat. Narrowing his optics, Breakdown shifted against the wall and saw a small, quickly aborted, moment from the still form.

"That was good Pet, you're so very clever with those digits, mm… and that talented glossa… now come here…" Breakdown purred the words out, feeling anticipation rise and his spark, amazingly, stirring again already, reacting to what ideas he had for rewarding his little whore. Faintly he wondered if Dead End had initiated self repairs. He hoped so, he did not want to wait with hearing the sweet noises of arousal and surrender… nor the screams of completion that he would make sure to force from his pet this time, one way or another!

"Tell me Pet…. What would a hot, mm yeah, burning hot little whore like you like as a reward?…you can ask for anything, but… choose well. I might not give it to you, mind, but I will not punish you for presuming!"

With a faint whine, Dead End returned to his Master's side. He hadn't wanted to leave in the first place, but thought Breakdown was more likely to be angry if he woke up with another against him, the Lamborghini was paranoid, after all. Moaning helplessly as his Master's punning compliment reminded him of his need, Dead End tried to think clearly, to phrase his desire in an acceptable manner. He briefly, very briefly, considered the idea of asking to be allowed to see Breakdown, even only for a moment, but that was a silly, petty thing to ask, and was also quite likely to be denied. He didn't want to waste this chance on something that he was sure would be forbidden, after all. "I... ah... Please, Master," the words came in a low, hesitant tone. "I... w-would very much... l-like it if..." and then the hesitancy dropped and the request spilled out in a rush, "If you would overload me again, Master, however you wish, please..." Dead End was very aware that even that might be presuming too much, but his Master had SAID he would not be punished for asking...

Ohh yes, Dead End had repaired his vocalizer, such a thoughtful pet he had... Breakdown reached out and began to trace the Porsche's seams idly, lightly. A shudder went through him as Dead End began to vocalize, by the Unmaker that voice was so… mm, there was no appropriate words, the request was fairly simple, too simple. An arousing prospect, yet he was faintly disappointed that his pet had not been more specific, of course that could, and would, be mended!

"Oh my Pet, I very much intend to hear your screams of completion this time! I am asking in what manner you want it done?" He kept his tone to a purr, careful not to let on that he was annoyed, after all, Dead End was only afraid to overstep his boundaries.

The Porsche cringed slightly, when put that way it sounded so silly. Of course his Master would want to overload him now that he could scream again. "I... would prefer... if you were gentle, Master. Perhaps even..." he cut off, sure he had gone to far. But no, he had been encouraged, twice now, to voice his wants... Forcing himself to continue, Dead End wound up speaking to Breakdown's hip joint. "It... would be nice if we... we both... if we both overloaded, even if you have to hurt me Master," once again the words spilled out, and Dead End was left wondering just where that emotion had come from.

Much better… and quite surprising, just for that he might refrain from hurting the mech even if he messed up and yes! He had waited long enough, there was no question that Dead End submitted to him, would continue to submit to him, if nothing else the preference for pain rather than a lonely overload showed that much. The thought of merging with someone willingly submitting to him was… his spark pulsed.

"If you follow orders, there will be no pain, my little whore, I can be gentle and generous…" Shifting so that he could lean down, Breakdown feathered kisses on the trembling mech, fear was such a delightful emotion, as was the almost despairing hope that the Porsche fairly radiated. He was a bit unfair, using such a severe and dangerous tone right now, but he disliked being doubted and since he very well knew that his pet disliked pain, had been talking of rewarding him…

"Don't doubt my offers, my Pet! When I reward you, you can be sure it will only bring you pleasure…" he whispered quietly against an audio receptor, gently tracing the weld lines on it with his glossa and dermaplates.

"But I didn't doubt you, Master," Dead End corrected in confusion before he could weigh the risks. "I... know you like me in pain, and... and thought it... it might... overload you better." As long as he was doing something stupid like correcting his Master, he might as well explain the thought-process he had followed. That didn't stop him from shivering at the tender lick, or from moaning. Enjoy the pleasure while it lasted, it was likely to end soon from his stupid comment.

Pulling away from his pet, Breakdown wavered between anger and pleasure. This was what he wanted, for Dead End to consider his master's needs above his own… but he could not allow him to speak up like this, to contradict him or correct him without having allowance to do so. Yet he was reluctant to allow pain to mar this encounter, strange that…

"Pet, open an interface port for me… and this time remember to lower your firewalls… It's not your pain I like Pet, it is the way you scream and writhe, the sounds you make drive me wild with the need to posses you, own you…" Running a single digit down the black chest plate, Breakdown wondered how to punish without pain… was it even poss… yes!

"You do own me," Dead End murmured, speaking to himself. He opened a port again, willingly, this had to be some kind of record... no, scratch that, it WAS a record. "P-please, Master, I... I need just a moment to... to drop my firewalls," how strange, he asked for a moment, and he actually felt sure that he would get the required time. Breakdown... wanted his noises, not his pain... what a concept. A concept which resulted in his firewalls lowering with barely a thought. "Done," Dead End let Breakdown know, surprised at how... easy it was.

He allowed his pet the requested moment but wasted no time plugging in, pausing in surprise when he found not even a hint of resistance. Breakdown did find a volatile mix of emotions, hope, fear, lust, surrender… much more then could be put to words, some even with names he didn't know. Ignoring it for now, he allowed Dead End a brief glimpse of his displeasure and his satisfaction before speaking.

/Tell me what you think of me, my Pet, remember to be honest and start at the beginning, from our first time…/ He kept tracing the lines and planes of the Porsche's chest plate, utterly fascinated, yet again, with the smooth surface… this was so much better than using violence. /AH! No, no Pet, speak out loud, I want to hear your voice…/

What he... thought of Breakdown? And oh, he would be honest. Even if he had wanted to, lying to someone in uplink was impossible. What he'd thought... He didn't remember what he'd ... no, aloud. "I don't... remember the first time I saw you, Master," he admitted quietly. "I remember the first time I noticed you. That fight, with the Autobots, over that key thing? But I didn't think anything in particular then... Just knew who you were." He broke off with a moan as Breakdown traced over a spot that was a little more sensitive than others. "The first time you... you approached... ...forced me to interface..." Dead End shivered at the memory. He had barely been functioning at the end of that encounter, oh, it had been horrible... "I was terrified. I already knew you... I already thought you liked pain."

Oh, he wasn't enjoying this little confession, not at all. What he was going to say next would be even worse. He was going to admit, "I hated you, Master." Dead End paused for a click, waiting for the pain before forcibly reminding himself that Breakdown had SAID it wasn't the pain he liked, he'd promised that rewards wouldn't have pain... but this wasn't part of a reward... It almost... had the feel of a lesson, actually.

"I HATED you," Dead End repeated, snarling, but his anger was towards himself. "But I... wanted you." He stopped again, with a sob-like cycling of vents. "You're beautiful, Master. I wanted you to look at me... to take me, even with the pain... I don't like the pain, but I thought you did, and the pain is never as bad as the fear, I would rather pain than fear any day, and you're so gentle now, I will do anything, be anything, to make you happy, Master." His pitch had risen to a wail of fear and hope and pure blind emotion.

It was not what Breakdown had expected at all, he had never bothered with actually reading Dead End when he forced an uplink, only used it to cause pain in the mech he so wanted to own but saw as out of his reach… The red and black chassis was beautiful, both in pain and pleasure, but he had to admit that he preferred the pleasure, if for no other reason than because it left the chassis almost pristine, only marred by stripes of his own paint, a temporary mark of ownership. It was so hard for his pet to admit his old need, to tell why he had taken the beatings and the degrading overloads without much of a fight. Sweet, dark power, to make or break the Porsche's dreams… utterly destroy him or give him everything he craved. /Mine! You are mine to please and hurt, to take or reject… my Pet/ "MY LOVER." Furious for no apparent reason, aroused like never before, Breakdown straddled the shocked Porsche and kissed him with bruising force, curling his digits into chest seams with a gentleness that completely ignored his emotion's volatile state.

/OPEN./

"Yours, yes, yes Master," Dead End agreed readily, too confused by his Master's suddenly wild emotions to do anything more than agree to... Lover? Dead End's spark pulsed as he ran that thought through his processor again. Lover? It was not a word he had ever considered Breakdown using for him... Open, yes, his Master wanted in, and so in he would get, and Dead End's spark pulsed again as he obeyed the order. He hadn't done anything wrong, that was about the only thing Dead End was sure about as he moaned into the kiss.

As soon as he could, Breakdown thrust a hand into the opening chest to caress the hot casing containing the flaring spark, there had been no hesitation on Dead End's part this time, no struggle at all. It didn't bother him, with the linkup still in place he could feel the Porsche's confusion and elation, it was intoxicating and calmed his inexplicable anger. He turned the kiss softer, still dominating it as should be, but gentler, exploring rather than taking. Stroking the fragile latches on the spark casing, a flash of memories was shared between them, Dead End's pain and Breakdown's raging need to posses, the sound of the latches breaking, the feel of them crumbling in his hands.

/Not this time Pet!/ Gently teasing one latch open, Breakdown released his dermaplates and moved down to lick at it while he gently pried the rest of them open, careful not to cause any harm.

He screamed. Dead End couldn't help it, he HAD to scream, but it wasn't pain. It was shock, and hope, and pleasure. A line of fear from long conditioning, and the flash of memories did not help with that, but this felt so good, he had never realized that having another open his chamber could feel so... His spark was flaring more, but Dead End pulled back on that, sure his Master was going to do more. What had Master said, he liked... he liked him writhing, and vocal, oh, he could do that, Dead End was quite happy to squirm and beg for more from his Master.

Armor scraped against the berth and against his own as Dead End moved, the scream turning into moans and broken begging, everything that his pet felt leaking into him from the uplink. There was nothing like this in his own memory banks, not even from the few times where he had allowed himself to fantasize about how owning his gestalt mate would feel… All Dead End wanted was to please him, even the Porsche's own pleasure came second place to that. Using both hands to open the casing, Breakdown stopped to look at the spark inside, the pure blue-white sphere with its corona of wildly lashing energy, so desirable!

/Do you want me to take you completely Pet? Merge with you… tell me, scream it for me!/

Oh. Oh, yes. He very much did want that. "Yes, Master, take me! Merge with me, use me for your pleasure, Master... Possess me!" The screams echoed as Dead End squirmed mindlessly. He could, just on the edge of the uplink, feel his Master's desire and approval, it must be strong if he could feel it unintentionally like this.

He moved up from Dead End, licking his own dermaplates, savoring the sense of victory and the intense desire burning in his own spark. It was quite overwhelming how promptly, willingly, his pet followed orders. Snarling in pure hungry anticipation, Breakdown allowed his chest plates to part and his spark casing to open, bracing himself on his outstretched arms to just look at the helplessly thrashing form of Dead End before slowly lowering himself. Just before their sparks met, he silenced his pet with another kiss, eagerly swallowing every sound, subduing Dead End's glossa by pinning it to the roof of his mouth.

Dead End wailed into his Master's mouth, yielding as Breakdown's spark touched his. He could only hope Breakdown was as close as he was, because no matter how badly he needed to please his Master, Dead End knew he wasn't going to be able to hold out much longer. It felt too good, he had wanted this for too long, but slaggit! He had to please his Master.

It was so easy to dominated the merge that Breakdown was momentarily stunned. He shouldn't have been, perhaps, Dead End was so willing to give in to him and so close to overload. He had to make it fast, much faster then he liked to, there simply wasn't time for either of them to fully enjoy the different layers of the merge. He did make sure to allow his pet to enjoy it, this was after all his reward for that amazing overload…

/Let go Pet, it'll feel good…/ breaking the kiss, Breakdown burrowed his head in Dead End's neck joint, licking and nibbling on the pliant metal, encouraging him to do whatever he wanted and then let go of his own spark, allowing the overload to enfold them, relishing in the burning pleasure it brought and the screams that it tore from his pet.

It would feel good, it was ALREADY feeling good... And then it felt far, far beyond 'good'. Who knew that an uplink could actually make overloading in a merge even MORE enjoyable? The energy crackled through his systems, and Dead End gave a final scream before once again slipping into recharge as the overload receded.

He was very depleted, the energon was still on his desk, but Breakdown did not have the energy nor the inclination to fetch it at this point. Following the plan his half in recharge calculations processor suggested, he moved around so that he lay beside Dead End, enfolding him in a possessive embrace. Both the Porsche's arm pinned to his sides and his legs locked together by one of his own, his pet was going nowhere until he said so!

* * *

Dead End onlined still feeling very good from that overload. That probably saved him; since he felt so good, he was able to logically figure out who was holding him BEFORE he started panicking about it. He realized that it simply had to be Breakdown who was holding him, and that was a rather odd thought itself, but it meant he wasn't in any danger. They had closed up sometime during the recharge, which was probably good, Dead End still wasn't sure what he'd do if onlined restrained and bared to the world. He'd likely find out eventually, but was glad it wasn't yet. How long had Breakdown been recharging...? Hopefully he'd get up soon... it was... comfortable here, but now that he was awake, Dead End was aware of little bumps and stiffness, and he was hungry...

Movement? Breakdown jerked online, it had only been the slightest little scrape against his armor, not even enough to say his pet was actually squirming, but since his sensors where always on full strength when he recharged it was enough. Growling possessively he tightened his grip, while trying to make sense of the fact that he had allowed someone to recharge with him, or rather trying to come to terms with the fact that he wasn't freaking over having another in his room while recharging… after all, anything could have happened!

Lifting his head slowly, Breakdown observed, to his utter surprise, that Dead End was still wearing the blindfold. It pleased him… more than he would have thought, as did the fact that his pet had obviously not even tried to escape from his hold. For just a moment he allowed himself to enjoy the unique feeling of the unresisting chassis against his, the heat and the feeling of ownership. Slowly releasing Dead End, he pulled away and sat up, watching him intently and then, as an afterthought, removing the blindfold before standing. He was actually a little wobbly, but was unsure if it was a residue of last night or hunger that did it.

"Stay on the berth, my Pet! I'll get our energon."

He had onlined his optics when he'd onlined everything else, and the removal of the blindfold caught him by surprise. With a low whimper, Dead End ducked his head, but not before he caught a glimpse of his Master, scuffed and standing unstably. He enjoyed the sight, but knew Breakdown didn't like to be seen, and so Dead End didn't look. He didn't offline his optics, though, not yet ready to give up sight again. Stretching a little on the berth, he realized he was dizzy too, and bore quite a collection of scrapes and dings. Belatedly, he answered, "Yes, Master." Not that it was needed, it was fragging obvious he wasn't trying to get off the berth, but...

Glancing back at the berth when Dead End affirmed his obedience, Breakdown almost tripped, alluring little whore! Not that he particularly minded, but it would have to wait a little… and just to prove that he had the ability to resist his pet he really should wait until he was approached. He really hoped he could, but was not all too confident on that, he had too vivid memories of what Dead End's surrender felt like, what his plating tasted like…

Shaking himself, he went the last few steps to his desk, collecting the energon cubes, satisfied that he had thought of fetching them last joor since, all in all, this had gone better than his calculations processor had extrapolated. Sitting in the chair, all but eating his pet with his optics, Breakdown decided to make this a little more… fun. "Pet… what will you do to earn your energon?"

"Huh?" was Dead End's pointless answer. "I mean, no, I heard you, Master," he added a moment later, rubbing his face in an attempt to focus on what was going on. What would he do to earn energon, what the pit kind of question was that? ...actually, a pretty good one... It went without saying that he'd do anything he was told to do, so that clearly wasn't the answer Breakdown wanted. Slaggit, why did he keep making Dead End take initiative, he HATED taking initiative... He much preferred just doing what he was told, less chance he'd mess up that way, less chance he'd be punished. Think, think... something he could do, something worth a cube of energon... Ignore the fact he was hungry, leave that out of the equation... They needed a polish. ...okay, why had he thought that? It was true, though... Dead End knew HE was scuffed up, and from that glimpse of Breakdown... And it had the added benefit that he'd have to be able to see Breakdown, of course, the might make his Master refuse the offer... Refuse it, but hopefully not take offense... "I... could clean you up, a, a waxing, Master? I... know how to make myself look good, without drawing attention, I... could do the same for... you..." Dead End trailed away, it was a stupid offer after all.

His engine came alive with a rumbling purr at the thought of Dead End running his hands all over his chassis… that would be worth more than just a few energon cubes! Not that Breakdown intended to let his pet know that he felt that way. His evident nearly panicky confusion and hesitant words only added to his appeal, his poor pet was too worn out and hungry to process things properly… mm, if that was not an ego boost of supernova proportions.

"Come here Pet." Motioning Dead End towards him, Breakdown deliberately gave him no other indications of accepting or rejecting his offer, oh, he intended to take it, but no matter what Dead End needed fuel before doing anything, and Breakdown would be a irresponsible owner if he didn't provide his pet with everything he needed… punishments included.

Well... his Master was purring, that was a good thing, wasn't it? At least, it wasn't a bad thing... At least, Dead End didn't think it was a bad thing... With another quiet, "Yes, Master," the Porsche left the berth, or tried too. A bout of dizziness hit him, and he had to sit back down, fast, which he did with a moan. Okay, that hadn't worked...

This time when Dead End left the berth, it was to drop to his knees and catch himself with his hands. He wasn't embarrassed about crawling to his Master, only about being so weak. Sure, his emotions had been all over lately, and sure he had been punished and hadn't fueled for a while, but that didn't excuse the fact that he was weak. Reaching Breakdown, Dead End settled back, waiting on his knees.

Apparently his pet was in a much worse condition than Breakdown had thought, that did not please him in the least! He would have to make it clear that he expected Dead End to take better care of himself when he couldn't keep an optic on him… he would endeavor to make those times as few and short as possible, but they would be there and he would not have it that Dead End forgot to refuel…

"When did you last take energon Pet?" Breakdown's digits slid gently over the black helmet, conveying that his severe tone meant no danger to the Porsche, or so he hoped. He knew that the fatalistically inclined mech often forgot everything when in the grip of depression, likely deciding that refueling was a waste of time… how to discourage that kind of behavior? Putting one hand over the dull glowing red optics, he tilted his pet's head back and called a cube out of his subspace, pressing it carefully to the quivering dermaplates. What was it with him now? Did he think that Breakdown would punish him for lacking fuel, when he could not have known that he would need it… "Be easy Pet, while I do disapprove of your neglecting yourself, I won't punish you this time… but I warn you, I will not be so lenient again!"

That... was actually a good question, and Dead End was glad that his Master didn't seem to expect a reply, because he did not HAVE an answer. He got the feeling Breakdown was more than a little upset with him, the Lamborghini was practically repeating himself. He'd already told Dead End not to damage himself... well, Dead End realized he might not have considered failing to fuel as 'damage', so perhaps it was best that it be specified... Opening his mouth, the Porsche didn't even try to hold back the moan as fresh energy began to hit his systems. It had apparently been a lot longer than he'd thought.

The sound that the Porsche made when he started to drink caused Breakdown's engine to rev aggressively, he had truly not considered that taking care of his new possession might elicit such a response. He could see that his pet's optics grew brighter as energy was distributed to the different systems and felt an odd sort of satisfaction, a calmness he had never experienced before… It was slightly disturbing that Dead End had such effects on him, but he was gorgeous, so desirable and so very eager to submit that there really was nothing Breakdown could do to resist him. A good thing indeed that the Porsche could not read his processor…

"Good Pet… I expect you to be very grateful, very diligent in repaying me…" he cooed, a little distractedly, annoyed that he had to keep his free hand over his pet's optics when he really wanted to stroke over the black helmet. It would be no use to order Dead End to offline them now, not while he was consuming energy like a starving Neutral, the systems would simply flat out refuse to be offlined, he knew from experience.

Okay, yeah, a LOT longer than he'd thought. This was good... oh, but surely he shouldn't take to much? No, no, trust his Master. His Master would give him what he needed, he'd been doing that already... So nice, he was so grateful... Grateful? Diligent? Oh, yes, that was right, he was going... was he going to wax him? Master had never said that his offer was accepted... but he was fueling him, so it didn't matter, he'd repay Master however Master wanted him to...

Dimly, Dead End realized the energy rush was making him giddy, almost optimistic, and really not very logical. He wasn't really able to care at the moment, he was too busy draining the cube and making happy little agreeing noises.

Hungry… hmm, good thing he had taken plenty of energon with him then, and good thing they were allowed plenty at the moment, when raids went well they were rewarded accordingly. Allowing Dead End to drain the cube entirely, Breakdown quickly stored it away, fetching another that he took several long swallows of, before feeding the rest to the eager Porsche, again stowing the empty cube… It was only mid-grade, but if he didn't wait a little with the next cube Dead End would likely become overcharged, his optics where already slightly brighter than they should be.

"Come Pet, back to the berth with you. We need to wait a little before finishing refueling, and I need to taste you again…" The rather sharp order turned into an approving purr, as he watched the Porsche hesitantly lick at his own dermaplates.

"I'm sorry, Master, I won't let myself run down like that again," Dead End spoke quickly, still unaccustomedly giddy. He meant it though, every word, and needed to let Breakdown know. Back to the berth... He stood, was slightly surprised to find that he could, but still had to be helped to the berth. Dead End cursed himself mentally, he wasn't usually this bad, but neither did he usually offline twice from two very nice overloads...

"No my Pet, I believe you know better than going against my decrees." 'Master', the title flowed so easily from Dead End's vocalizer, the ease was enough to rile his systems, the acceptance of his dominance… his pet was going to be well used, and he had better be up to every second of it. Breakdown had no problem with helping the Porsche onto the berth, using every chance he got to administer caresses, light and teasing, to whatever part of the red and black chassis where readily available.

By the time he was laying on the berth again, Dead End was back to shaking. Not from fear, he could tell, he KNEW, that his Master wasn't angry with him, and so he had nothing TO fear. Nothing to fear... even if it was only for a moment, it was such a nice experience. No, Dead End was shaking from the teasing, gentle caresses, never able to anticipate where the next stroke would be...

Such nice reactions... sitting beside Dead End, Breakdown stroked the shaking chassis with long sweeping motions, trying to decide what to do. He wanted too many things at a time, wavering between the extremes of allowing his pet time to recuperate a little and just plain out taking him again. Sense actually won… somewhat surprising, but he had no wish to damage what he finally possessed. Leaning over his pet, who had wisely turned his head away, he began to explore the side of his helmet with glossa and dermaplates.

Dead End thought he might melt, his Master was being so loving... loving? No, gentle, don't get presumptuous. It felt nice either way, he'd never thought of his helmet as sensitive, but then... he seemed to be more sensitive any place Breakdown touched. It had made things so much worse when his Master hurt him, but it made things nice now... With a soft mewl, Dead End squirmed against Breakdown, he was probably taking too great an advantage of the freedom to touch...

Breakdown was enjoying himself immensely, almost too much, he had to remind himself that they both needed more fuel. Dead End was not helping him maintain focus, but it was difficult to reprimand him when he was doing what Breakdown wanted him to do. Sitting back up with an annoyed huff of air leaving his vents, he pulled another two cubes out of subspace and forced himself to ignore the disappointed wail that issued from his pet's vocalizer. At least it seemed that his pet was as eager for their… interfacing to continue as he was, something he could approve of whole sparkedly.

"Drink this Pet…" His tone made it an order and Dead End, albeit a bit reluctantly, got into a sitting position and took the energon. It was clear that his systems were still starving, with the way he gulped the cube down as opposed to Breakdown's own measured sips. He was considering fetching more fuel when a base wide alert was sounded, Soundwave's monotone, clipped voice informed them that a full scale raid was to be launched in two breems. Breakdown's temper flared at the notion of having his time with Dead End cut short, but there was really no choice...

It ended up being a prolonged battle, where Menasor had been needed. Breakdown abhorred merging with his gestalt mates, giving up control of his chassis and processor, but had no choice. Luckily, the control was given to the mostly dormant Menasor personality and not to Motormaster, or Breakdown would have rather offlined himself and Dead End before allowing the merge.

Still, the result was, predictably, that Breakdown had absolutely no patience left when he reached the Nemesis, his processor and spark roiling with a potent mix of fury and raw desire that he could do nothing about, since Dead End had been injured and was in Hook's tender care. Prowling about the med bay, he saw Motormaster arrive and later leave, dragging a repaired Dead End behind. Breakdown literally saw red, fury completely obscuring the fact that his pet was less than happy with the situation.

There was nothing Breakdown could do, Motormaster was twice his height and thrice his mass, and if Megatron found out that he had tried to offline one of the gestalt leaders… being dead would be a mercy. Still, that was not what was driving him mad, no, what was making his processor fritz and his spark lash out with unstable energy spikes was the thought of Dead End with the gestalt leader. Moaning and begging, writhing against the larger black and purple mech… ENJOYING being with him, kissing him…. Merging with him…

Dead End belong to him, his kisses, all his sweet little noises of surrender and pleasure, the screams of completion, they were HIS! And now his pet, his little whore, his property, was giving it all to Motormaster! Drag Strip made the mistake of getting in Breakdown's way, and came out of it rather much the worse for wear, but even that fight didn't relive any of Breakdown's by now murderous rage. He all but trashed the gestalt's common room, and then retired to give his own room the same treatment, unable to recharge for the continuing output his calculations processor leaked.

Breakdown was not going to be happy with him. That was the one thought Dead End managed to hold on to while Motormaster used him, the one thought he held on to while he stumbled through the common room... ooh, Breakdown was not happy... It wasn't his fault, he couldn't stop the gestalt leader, but Dead End KNEW Breakdown. Breakdown would take his anger out on anyone available, and Motormaster was not, in an sense, available for Breakdown to pour his anger on.

Dead End opened the door shaking. Better to go to his Master and accept the pain now than to make Breakdown hunt for him. Perhaps, by willingly taking the pain, just perhaps he would be able to calm his Master, to soothe him, perhaps even earn the tenderness back... "M... master?" the Porsche asked quietly, leaning in the doorway, head bowed and optics towards the ground.

There was no rationality left in Breakdown when morning came. He was tense and more than ready to rip any mech approaching him to shreds, barely pausing at the fact that it was Dead End standing in the doorway… He didn't even acknowledge what his scanners told him of the Porsche's pitiful condition, and it was pitiful, apparently Motormaster had been rather irritated with his underling. Grasping his pet by the neck, Breakdown yanked him into the trashed room, tossing him to the floor, using much more force then was necessary on the unresisting mech.

"LITTLE WHORE, YOU COULD NOT EVEN LAST A SINGLE ORN WITHOUT GIVING YOURSELF TO ANY WILLING MECH!" Roaring his accusation to his cowering pet, Breakdown kicked him viciously in the side, feeling a burning cold satisfaction when the mech curled up around the injury. It was not enough… this transgression was going to cost his little whore, yes, cost him dearly. Yanking him up by his head, Breakdown slammed him against a wall, his digits immediately digging into the main chest seam, prying the plates apart while snarling incoherent accusations and curses at the terrified Porsche.

No... Breakdown was not happy. Dead End didn't waste energy on defending himself, on protesting Breakdown's word. He could explain himself later, he hoped... if he couldn't, well, nothing would matter then anyway. He screamed as the infuriated Lamborghini tore at his chest, but he didn't dare do anything more than simply take it. Dead End knew well enough that if he did ANYTHING unexpected with Breakdown in this mood, it would simply be taken as an admission of guilt. His throat hurt where Breakdown had held to throw him, and his vocalizer was already stressed from the screams he'd given Motormaster... no, the screams that Motormaster had forced. He had never stopped screaming last night, but Motormaster had noticed the difference... the Porsche had screamed in defiance, never submission. That was reserved now only for his Master.

The scream that he would normally have paused to savor went unheard, or rather, ignored. Breakdown was not interested in interfacing or enjoying, only in punishing. When the plates were fully open he let go again, not even waiting to see his pet clutch at his torn plating as he slid to the floor. This time he chose with pain in mind when he dug out his toys from the wreck of his storage unit, a heavy force whip, mag-cuffs, and, possibly worst of all, stim-sticks.

Unceremoniously cuffing his pet and activating the cuffs, he fastened the Porsche to the wall. He was so furious that he didn't even think about ordering him to do anything. For just a split second he met the resigned optics of his pet… Snarling, Breakdown simply shattered one with the whip handle and then turned his back on Dead End, pacing and growling for some time.

A sound from the restrained mech had Breakdown whirling about, the whip turned on in a flash and the first hit landing against the already injured side. As opposed to the whip he had used five joors past, this had only one thick lash and it was a torturer's tool, it cut into the surface of Dead End's armor leaving burned, warped metal behind. Breakdown didn't care, he rained hits onto his pet's chassis, relishing in the release of violence, at times even deliberately landing hits dangerously close to his pet's traitorous spark. The stim-sticks were clenched in his hand, awaiting their turn.

Madness, that was all he had seen in Breakdown's optics before his Master shattered his own. Dead End tried to remain quite, hoping Breakdown would burn off some anger before turning on him again... It proved a false hope, and Dead End was again reduced to screaming. He had never actually been in his right mind when Breakdown lost his temper, terror and pain usually consumed his higher functions long before this point... It was hope that kept him aware this time, hope that in the end, things could return to the nice situation they had been in earlier. Dead End had always known that hope would only bring him pain... With his remaining optic, the Porsche saw the stim-sticks, and for the first time he honestly doubted that he would survive this, at least with any scrapes of sanity.

His rage began to recede, leaving numbness behind until Breakdown just stood there, gazing unseeing at his mangled pet. He was still not satisfied with the punishment, but could no longer remember why he was punishing in the first place. Letting go of the whip, he walked to the wall and gently caressed the only unscarred part of Dead End, his faceplate.

"I am so disappointed whore, I thought I had made it clear… you are mine, and mine alone! I can not let you forget this ever again, I must punish you. If only you didn't make it necessary…" Stepping back a little, Breakdown searched for the interface ports on Dead End's scorched hips. They could not be opened, the metal covering them simply too warped, so he had to break them open. Pausing briefly to kiss the trembling mech gently, he then inserted the stim-sticks, one in each port.

"I am so sorry Pet, but you have to learn…" It was doubtful that Dead End heard him, writhing in his own private version of the pit, a place of pain and pleasure as the stim-sticks magnified everything he was feeling and forced his spark to find pleasure in it. How many times Breakdown watched Dead End overload, he wasn't sure, but eventually not even the stim-sticks could force the Porsche to stay online anymore. Removing them, Breakdown carelessly threw them on the floor and delivered his pet to Hook… Time would tell if he had learned anything…

* * *

:(  Poor Dead End...  Please leave a review!


	6. Chapter 6

Late update. On the other hand, it's long and nummy. So, enjoy!

* * *

It was a full half-orn later before Dead End once again approached Breakdown's door. He was shaking, terrified, but he had to at least try... one more time... try to win back Breakdown's approval. It was his only hope to keep his life from returning to the nightmare it had been before. Once again he opened the door, head bowed, optics down, and asked, "Master?"

He was polishing himself this time, looking up with an angry retort ready when he realized that there was only one mech who would call him 'master'… Breakdown was not sure if he was still angry, or even if he had ever really been angry at Dead End. The real target had been Motormaster, but he was well beyond Breakdown's ability to take revenge. He had not wished to damage his pet that much, truly, and now he was back, standing trembling in the doorway, not looking at his master, still respectful…

"Come inside 'End, and tell me why you are here…" Neutral tone, and Breakdown went back to polishing his armor. He decided that his reaction would depend on Dead End's actions.

He stepped inside, closed the door, didn't move any closer to Breakdown yet. He had been told to come inside, he was terrified of pushing too far. Instead, Dead End dropped to his knees, kneeling to his Master. "Please... I want... to fix my mistakes, I want... to please you again, Master," he choked out. Breakdown was polishing himself... He had offered to polish him, in return for the energon, before... before everything went wrong... Dead End's vents hitched in a sob, and he raised a hand towards his Master, who seemed to be ignoring him... "PLEASE, Master... let me redeem myself..."

Growling a little, Breakdown shot up from the berth and flung the polishing cloth down. Somehow, Dead End's begging made him angry, and he paced agitatedly back and forth, pretending not to see how his pet cowered in fear… at least, he assumed it was fear.

"You presume to call me master still? After betraying me… tell me whore, did you like it when Motormaster took you, did you beg? Moan? Call him Master in that sweet voice you have just before overload?" It was a sore point, Breakdown hated the thought that Dead End might have liked someone else's touch. It was such a basic anger that he could not really process it's origin, all he had was imagined images of large black hands caressing red and black armor.

THAT made him flinch even more, not the anger, but the accusation. "I did not!" Dead End answered firmly, still anguished. "I did not..." he repeated in a softer tone, dropping his hand and curling into himself. "He wanted me to... I didn't." Still shaking, he forced himself to his feet, forced himself to lower his arms. "You... can check... i-if you want..." There was a soft click as he opened ALL his ports, almost collapsing from his fear.

He stilled, almost gaping in shock at the bold move, the insistence with which Dead End stated that he had not given Motormaster what the gestalt leader had craved from him. Moving swiftly, Breakdown pinned the Porsche to the door, his optics dimming slightly in reaction to the feel of his pet's chassis against his own, where it belong… where he had missed it. Tilting his head, he moved his dermaplates over the trembling jaw line, nibbled delicately on the edge of the black helmet and licked gently over the weld seams on his audio receptors before whispering into it…

"And why should I want to do that whore, why should I want to even touch you ever again… a reason, 'End… can you give me one?"

Dead End whimpered weakly at the ineffable rightness of being pinned by Breakdown. A reason... Breakdown wanted a reason... Dead End didn't HAVE a reason. Not any reason that might benefit Breakdown, at least. "I... can't... Only... I-if you are... if you do not... w-want me... I... will seek to offline. I... am yours, and if you... do not want me... I am nothing."

That whimper more than the words were his undoing. He had missed Dead End, missed his pet yes, but also quite simply missed the mech that was his pet. Breakdown plugged in and found… no resistance whatsoever, but plenty of fear, as he expected, and a determination he had never before seen in his pet. The truth… the truth was that Dead End had hated every nanoclick at Motormaster's hands, fearing Breakdown's reaction to all of it so much that the inevitable overload had been more pain then pleasure. Breakdown was stunned… he had truly believed that his pet had at least found some pleasure at their leader's hands, had, in a way, even hoped it for his sake, since he knew very well how painful any kind of resistance would be, while at the same time hating the mere idea.

He was looking... There was a chance, then, that his Master might accept him back, might allow him to make amends... "Please... Please, is it possible for me to make things right again, M..." he caught himself. Breakdown had said it was presumptuous to call him Master, and so... he would wait, hope to earn back that privilege. "Please..." Dead End repeated instead, whimpering again and pressing into the white and blue chassis against him.

Breakdown pulled back, faceplate impassive as he unplugged himself from his pet and went back to settle himself on the berth in a relaxed pose. He kept silent for some time, outwardly calm, inside roiling with a mix of emotions. He meant it, Dead End meant every word he said, he was practically burning with the need to redeem himself, an emotional wreck over being denied the right to call him master… he had pressed against him with nothing but desire and fear of rejection in his processor and it had been so hard to keep his engine from roaring to life, hard to not just take his pet right there, pressing him against the door.

"I believe you still owe me a payment…"

Silently, Dead End approached, hoping that comment meant what he thought it did, hoping that Breakdown wasn't simply going to collect the payment and then reject him. Pit, for that matter, he hoped he was interpreting that comment correctly as allowance to polish him. That had been the offer, after all. Picking up the cloth and the wax slowly, the Porsche whined and wrapped the cloth around his hand. A little wax and, shaking, Dead End reached towards a leg, watching his motions in the same detached manner as he had the first time he had been allowed to touch.

Dead End hadn't been taking good care of himself, or rather, he had not taken the time to apply new paint and wax before presenting himself at Breakdown's door. Hmm, he would have to do something about that later, his pet should always be at his best. It was difficult to keep silent and still when the Porsche began applying the wax. Polishing oneself was enjoyable, having someone else do it… bliss! So hesitant, shaking almost too much to apply an even coat of wax, fear rolling off him in waves that could almost be measured… who wouldn't forgive their pet in such a situation? Not that Breakdown intended to tell him yet…

Breakdown wasn't stopping him, that was good. Dead End lingered as much as he dared, using firm strokes and that special little motion that he'd learned brought out a nice satin finish, to look nice without catching the light and drawing extra attention. He was, in his own way, trying to seduce the Lamborghini, but not be obvious about it. It was hard, though, even as he relaxed a little as he was allowed to work, he still shook so hard... Dead End gave a low moan as he had to reach, brushing part of his bare arm against Breakdown, he had been being careful to only touch with the cloth between them...

Tensing at the low moan, Breakdown had to exert violent force on himself to not answer it with one of his own making, and he could not relax again, it was simply impossible as his pet continued his work, the sensual sweeping strokes almost hypnotizing… One moment Breakdown was tense as a spring, the next he had all but mauled Dead End, forcing the Porsche flat on the floor, his hands held securely above his head, olfactory sensors pressed together. For the first time ever he deliberately looked into his pet's wide, fearful optics, his own blazing a bright red.

"Open!"

Too easy to go utterly limp and submissive as Breakdown finally reacted... far more eager than Dead End would have guessed. He mewled as optics met his own, as Breakdown ordered him in a voice harsh with... was it need? No, want, call it desire... His Master wanted him, but did not need him, it was the pet who needed the Master. Dead End obeyed the order, opening EVERYTHING with delirious little whimpers, it didn't matter if Breakdown chose to posses him or kill him, after all either way would be what Breakdown wanted.

Those sounds, he very nearly off lined his optics from pleasure. He had been plagued by how his pet sounded when he gave himself willingly, haunted with the idea that Motormaster had been allowed to hear them… but he hadn't, all his brave little pet had given their leader had been defiance.

"Such a good Pet, so obedient, so skillful…" He wasn't aware that he was vocalizing, crooning really, as he briefly levered himself up to part his own chest, bringing their stirring sparks together, snarling viciously as the connection forged itself slowly, far too slowly for his taste! He wanted to posses, to reaffirm his ownership and he wanted it NOW!

Possession, then, the thought flashed through Dead End's processor, and then he arched, yearning for the sensations, yearning to be, even for a moment, back in his Master's good graces. His whimpers modulated into a thin wailing at the words of praise, Breakdown's red optics focused on him, and he was still allowed to look back. Dead End decided he liked his Master's optics, they both blended and contrasted with his red faceplates, it was a very beautiful effect...

Breakdown was brutal in his need, driving them both on much faster then was normal or really advisable… it was, however, what was needed, and that was all that mattered. The pleasure was so sharp, so intense, that it could have easily been called pain, but it was a type of pain Breakdown would have happily suffered under until he off lined permanently. It could not last long, not with the way he had driven it to fruition. The last thing he did before overload came baring down on them was to silence his pet in the most effective way he knew, sealing Dead End's dermaplates with his own.

Dead End arched, writhing helplessly as his Master neared overload, kissed him almost brutally, silenced him as... He screamed into Breakdown's mouth, he didn't know which of them overloaded first, and it didn't matter, they both were. And the world was right again, things would be all right.

The floor was a less than pleasant place to online… though it was definitely redeemed by the fact that Dead End was laying under him, still in recharge. Somewhat sated and mollified, Breakdown transferred his pet to the berth and went to find energon, the Porsche was low on fuel again, and despite the fact that he had ordered his pet to keep his fuel levels up Breakdown was strangely pleased to be able to take care of him. Before returning to his room he found paint and more wax… no sense in not being prepared, and if he had a choice Dead End was not leaving for the next several joors.

The Porsche was still out when he returned, and Breakdown cocked his head slightly, staring with hunger at the scratched up, dinged and exhausted form. He much preferred him groomed, but there was something strangely appealing about all the superficial damage. Dead End looked so… used.

This onlining was much nicer than the last couple in recent memory. Dead End wasn't nearly as tense as he had been, though there was still tension in his frame. He was on a berth, unrestrained, and he thought there was someone near-by... it felt like someone was watching him, was that why Breakdown didn't like to be looked at? But it felt nice, comforting... well, this did, someone else's gaze would probably be distressing... With a low groan, Dead End stretched, shifting on the bunk. He should probably turn on his optics and return to trying to make amends... But it felt so good to lay here, just for a little while longer...

"Well… Pet… You do present rather compelling reasons for me to forgive you!" Breakdown was already charged again, feeling the tingling of arousal brush through his systems and enjoying it, wishing that Dead End was up to something more than just having energon. But he wasn't, which had a reason, of course, but it was still annoying as all pit, especially as that had been one of the last orders he had given his pet. "Still, you also willfully ignore my orders… are you sure you are capable of being my Pet, Dead End?" Challenging, how far would the Porsche go…?

Dead End could have screamed, it wasn't HIS fault he was low on energon this time, the Constructicons had refused to give him enough to keep his levels any higher... Well, he could have kept asking for more, could have insisted, refused to let them say no... He had let his depression and worry keep him from obeying Breakdown's orders, Breakdown had every right to be angry at him. Sitting up, he considered the words... His Master was willing to forgive him... but again needed a reason. ...No, not a reason... "I am sure." A bare answer, more than likely not satisfactory.

"Mm… that really isn't enough…" Settling on the berth edge, Breakdown brought a cube out of subspace, holding it out to Dead End but keeping a firm grip on it, watching the Porsche with narrowed optics. "What makes you so sure that you can please me? Hold my interest… why should I take you back… Pet?" Toying with the hopeful Porsche was fun, still... the despairing gaze and the almost desperate hunger whittled at his determination, and to be truthful… he wanted to hear Dead End reaffirm his ownership. He plain wanted his pet, he could not argue with what and how he felt, annoying as it was, and he felt a deep hunger, need truthfully, for the Porsche, a need he did not dare look to closely at.

His optics focused on the energon cube, but he wasn't sure if he could take it yet... No, he didn't think he should, it seemed more of a temptation than an offer. Why was he sure he could please Breakdown? Because he always had before... arrogant, and untrue, he had already failed Breakdown in more ways than he could count in the brief joors he'd been able to call the Lamborghini 'Master'. Hold his interest... Dead End already HAD Breakdown's interest, but pointing that out was, again, arrogant.

"Because I am yours," the Porsche said, words spoken blindly, bypassing his processor entirely. "You may not want me, you may toss me aside, that is your right... But I will never belong to another."

For a click Breakdown just froze, and then his engine kicked in, purring pleasantly as he leaned forward, placing the energon cube against Dead End's dermaplates. His spark brimmed with contained energy, wanting to pulse in reaction but forced to wait. Why he denied himself for the Porsche's sake he didn't bother thinking over, only interested in getting his pet re-energized, there was a lot they had yet to do together… so many possibilities…

"Drink up, my Pet, and we'll see if you can actually keep me interested…"

Dead End knew that sound, his Master's engine purring... It wasn't as good as verbal praise, but it was better than no sign of pleasure at all. And he had heard that, the shift from simply 'pet' to 'my Pet'. Obediently, he opened his mouth and let his Master pour the energy in. It was good, almost as good as the first time his Master had fed him, but he couldn't let this become a habit, he HAD to keep his energy up, to keep himself repaired... Keep himself looking good, in the best of health, so that no-one could say that his Master did not know how to keep a Pet.

He felt somewhat at peace again, not happy… not yet. He still had too many images of what their leader had possibly done with, no!, to his pet, he knew all too well what defiance brought on, knew all too well just how heavy handed Motormaster had likely been with Dead End. Breakdown was proud, in a twisted sort of way, that his Pet really, truly thought of himself as his, to the degree that he chose pain and damage above betraying his master… He wouldn't tell him this, at least not yet, maybe never, but he did have a way of rewarding him!

"Good 'End… you need to remember my orders! I realize that your fuel levels are low for a reason this time, but I will not tolerate that you keep ignoring your needs… any of your needs… understand, my Pet?" he wasn't talking purely of physical needs, rather he was giving the Porsche leave to seek him out when he needed… release.

Tossing the empty cube back into his subspace, Breakdown withdrew another, and this time allowed Dead End to hold it, before beginning to take other items out. Paint, cloth, wax, buffing tools, even a small handheld sandblaster to remove old scuffed paint. He deliberately paid no attention to Dead End's reaction to it all, concentrating on checking that he had everything he might possibly need.

"I understand, Master," Dead End answered softly, with the faintest pause before his voice caressed the title. He DID understand, knew that his Master wouldn't deny him anything he truly needed... What would happen, he wondered with a sudden shudder of fear, the next time Motormaster chose him to grace his berth...? It was going to happen some day, this entire situation could so easily be repeated... And his Master's torturous displeasure, Dead End would take the pain, but the disappointment...

Clutching the cube, the Porsche tried to calm himself down. Now wasn't the time to bring that up... was it? He needed to calm down... He needed to know what would happen, couldn't bring himself to ask... Dead End downed the cube, forced himself to notice what Breakdown was doing, not to watch, but there were other ways to know what his Master was doing, ways to see without obviously watching.

Selecting the sandblaster, Breakdown moved down and reached out, grasping Dead End's ankle, carefully pulling it into his lab. He didn't speak as he began stripping the ruined paint job off the armor, stopping at the knee joint and taking an oiled cloth to remove any lingering dust and sand. He had been harsh in his rage… it seemed that he would have to strip off the old paint job on Dead End's entire front and quite possibly most of his back too, he was not at all pleased with himself!

"You are forgiven, I am pleased with your… dedication. I realize that you did not have a choice, Motormaster… singled you out. I am sure it was because he knew you were satisfied, our gestalt merge would easily have shown him that much!" How come he broke his own decisions so easily when it came to Dead End… why did he want his pet to come to him willingly and without fear all of a sudden? No… not without fear, but without terror, the terror he had seen twice now and never wanted to see again if he could help it!

He flat stared for a couple of clicks as his Master removed the paint, until Dead End realized that he WAS staring and turned his gaze away. With a whimper of enjoyment, the Porsche relaxed a little into the so-tender touches. He was glad his Master had broached that subject... "He... is likely to try... again, Master." In stating the obvious, Dead End was asking about the future, something he found the courage to do because... he was forgiven, his Master was pleased... "Master..." he said again, just because he could now, reached to touch him but stopped short.

He did NOT want to think about that… SLAG IT! But he had to, Dead End was right, it was likely to happen again, especially since he had every intention of keeping his pet suitably satisfied. The second 'master' almost made Breakdown look up from his work, but he refrained, keeping his optics down and his thoughts firmly on the unpleasant task of sounding out his emotions involving his pet and Motormaster. Breakdown knew that he could not promise Dead End that he would be gentle, that he wouldn't hurt him… pit, he could not even tell if he would be less or more brutal next time it happened. He was too possessive, too utterly repulsed by the idea of 'sharing' his pet, his Dead End, with an undeserving, unrefined brute… and that was all Motormaster was. He was leader of the Stunticons not for his brilliant mind, but because he was the strongest and most violent of them all. He took from them, used them and hated them all… in returned they hated and feared him.

"I can't promise you anything… I can't… I won't share you! You are mine Dead End, my pet my whore, my POSSESSION! ...and my lover…" Trailing off in a whisper he put the sandblaster down and rubbed over the bared silvery metal with the oily cloth, staring at the armor but seeing nothing but images of Motormaster's black and purple form against red and black armor. "I would be lying if I told you that I would never do something like that again. If he touches you…. I will end up hurting you…"

His lover... oh, how liked those words, he liked being Breakdown's possession, but... Dead End liked being his Master's lover more. Daring to stroke the bowed blue head, he said, "I know, Master. I don't mind... being the outlet for you rage... It's your displeasure that... breaks me, Master. I am yours," he reaffirmed it, "I will always be yours. I will NEVER belong to another." The words felt horribly inadequate, but they were all he could offer, all he could promise. As long as his Master didn't accuse him of even wanting another, as long as his Master understood some things were inevitable but that Dead End was always his, Dead End could bear the physical pain.

The caress meant more than the words, he liked to hear the words but he didn't really want to acknowledge that he would be hurting his pet again… that he would ever beat him, abuse him that badly again. The whip could easily have killed Dead End, all it would have taken was few direct hits to the spark casing and it would have shattered… Breakdown still wasn't sure how he had managed to not hit it, he had been so close several times. He kept quiet and worked on patiently stripping paint from his pet's armor, only speaking when he needed him to move and forcing his spark to stay somewhat dormant… He had control enough to at least wait till the slagging paint was off!

He managed, barely, but by that time he was trembling imperceptibly with need, even fumbling with the annoying sandblaster… who knew that the slight vibration in his hand could feel erotic? Then again, who could have known that he would have Dead End like this… He put his hands flat on the Porsche's back plating, the last place to be stripped of paint and oiled down, amazed that Dead End had managed to keep still while he worked, that had almost been the most arousing facet of it all.

"Pet?"

His Master was afraid... What an absurd thought. Almost as absurd as thinking his Master needed him. Dead End was reduced to bare, oiled metal and he felt incredibly vulnerable, open... It had been awhile since he last needed such a full repaint. His Master's voice broke Dead End's thoughts, rough with the emotion Dead End was calling want, desire, not need. "Yes, Master?"

Lazily curious, yet with a hint of nervousness, by the Unmaker, Dead End had no idea just how arousing everything he did was… and the Porsche had enjoyed his attentions, even relaxed under his hands as he worked. He had doubted to ever get this back, but it was his now and that was all that mattered!

"Turn around my Pet, I need you to… need you to touch me."

Dead End tensed, just for a moment. Had he... truly heard that? His Master... needed him? Dead End gave a low, delirious mewl as he twisted around, eager to fulfill his Master's needs. "Oh, Master, my Master... I'm glad to, thank you... thank you for asking, for letting me..." He didn't try to stop his words, he knew how much his Master liked his voice after all.

Breakdown shuddered, even going so far as to briefly offline his optics in a display of pleasure when Dead End put his hands on his chest armor… his pet deserved this, deserved the freedom, dangerous as it was to give it. The Porsche had suffered a beating that was not his to endure, and had returned ready to take more pain if only it finally placated his master. "More, Pet!" It was not an order, nothing that was moaned out like that could be called an order. He moved up a little, resting on hands and knee joints over the still prone Dead End. "Much more, give me everything!"

Recklessly, he dared to look, to watch, though he didn't stare, switching between watching and looking away. Mewling and whimpering, Dead End let his hands roam, keeping his strokes the firm, lingering touches that his Master liked. It was weird enough seeing his hands caressing the white and blue, even weirder that his hands, normally dark, were currently silver, bare... "Yes, Master, yes... Everything, anything you want, I'm yours..."

"Want…" Breakdown whispered, and lowered so that he could nuzzle the tempting neck joint, mouthing the pliant plating and licking them, eager to find and probe the thin seams and what lay beyond. Dead End had no idea! If he thought it would allow him to have his pet for all eternity he would kill them both right now, but he was too much of a realist to think that was a viable solution… neither was the notion of leaving the Decepticons. While the Autobots might allow them within their ranks there was no way that they could live with their ideals. Living rogue might have worked on Cybertron, but it would not be feasible on earth… too few Cybertroninas and too much semi-intelligent organic life.

"Yes, want… mm, mine! Kiss me…"

Dead End shuddered, shivered, easily giving up on thinking. He lay kisses everywhere along Breakdown, finally trembling a kiss against scarlet dermaplates. His Master didn't stop him, and Dead End keened, daring to kiss harder with another moan. Oiled gray fingers left streaks against the white paint, and Dead End could see it all, wasn't stopped or hurt for his gaze.

Finally! Opening his mouth to allow Dead End deeper, he reveled in sensations, tilting his head just to feel their dermaplates slide against each other. Sneaking out his own glossa, Breakdown invited his pet to play. This was good… so very good, it was ridiculously easy to make his pet happy, and so gratifying that he never abused the freedom. While he fleetingly wondered what his pet thought about while they did this, what went through his processor when his optics fugitively slid over his own white and blue chassis, none of the customary creepy sensations of having lost control followed. He was that sure of his pet…. that convinced was he that Dead End had room for nothing but him and pleasing him in his processor.

He kissed almost desperately, not out of fear that his Master would stop him but from his own need, he needed his Master, needed the kiss, the touches he was allowed to give, needed it all. Dead End swirled his glossa around his Master's, letting the other dominate while gently putting up just enough fight to, he hoped, be interesting. Interesting, but not threatening, like his touches. What would his Master do if Dead End opened his chest, invited his Master to take him like that? But... he didn't quite want to, or perhaps didn't need to, he could find out later, the would be a later... He arched up, hands stroking anything they could reach as he sobbed and cried happily.

Breakdown was aware that his resent polish was being thoroughly ruined again and was utterly indifferent to it, preoccupied with the kiss and the noises that Dead End was making. For now he was satisfied with touching, kissing and… exploring, adding his own desperate need to that of his pet. He had to wonder which of them was the one most addicted to this, he was in control yet not, it should have made him reject Dead End out right, return to beating him and forcing interfaces on him, after all he hated losing control…What was it about his gestalt mate that made him forget his paranoia? It had to be more than just the interfacing, even if he had to admit that they felt beyond fantastic now that the Porsche gave himself up freely. What then… the surrender? No, while not always completely willing, the Porsche had always surrendered before too. Trying to figure it out now was perhaps a little pointless, since he had a hard time stringing more than two thoughts together while twisting in an effort to get his pet's hands to stroke in just the right spot with the right amount of pressure.

Keening and crying just to please his Master, Dead End followed the silent pleas, letting the squirming guide his hands. His Master's desire, NEED, met his, and the Porsche felt an unaccustomed surge of confidence. It was easy, now, to open himself, it took barely more than a thought and his chestplates were moving. He brushed his hand against the Lamborghini's clasps, but didn't try to open them, he wanted to, oh, he badly wanted to, to open his Master, be taken... "Master, please, may I? Will you take me, please?"

Breakdown stopped dead when the Porsche under him parted his chest plates and boldly stroked his side clasps. Boldly yes, but he was also begging so prettily… should he allow it? Well maybe, but only after he got his fill of teasing his pet! Abruptly moving down, he licked at the upper edge of the open chest, sneaking a hand in to trace the spark casing, making sure that his pet was voicing pleasure before he spoke. "I think I would like that… but… Pet, my beautiful, desirable little lover, are you really sure this is what you want?" He was teasing, he wanted to hear Dead End beg , whimper and moan, in fact, the more the better…

He screamed and shook, vibrating with pleasure and desire. It was so charging to see, to be allowed to watch, as his Master licked him, touched him... to be called beautiful, desirable... lover... "Master, yes! Yes, I want it, take me, Master please... Please, I want..." Dead End's voice hitched and fell to softness, "I would like... to open you, for you to take me..." He squirmed, arched, sobbed, begging with more than just his voice.

Carefully, and oh so slowly, Breakdown drew his glossa over the thin edge of Dead End's spark casing, wondering if his audio receptors were actually working fully, even going so far as to run a quick systems check on them. Not only was his pet asking to be ravaged, he was asking to be allowed to ensure that it would happen… and here he had thought for all that time that his pet hated it when he forced spark merging, well, maybe he had then. Now was different, now was better than… better than anything.

"You m… You may open me, Pet."

Dead End moaned, low and needy, a continuous sound of shock and gratitude. It was reckless, incredibly reckless, to be so trusting, so needy... And yet he could not help it, he trusted his Master, he needed his Master, he loved... "Master... my Master..." Dead End gave a howl, more at the turn his thoughts had taken than at the fact that his hand had returned to the Lamborghini's clasps. He delicately, carefully, teased them open, so hard to think, to take care, with his Master paying such nice attention to his spark chamber.

The Lamborghini was all but lost in exploring his pet's spark chamber, nibbling delicately at the edge, hungry for the merge to come yet reluctant to move from this veritable feast of sensations. Abruptly he was torn from his enjoyment as he reprocessed Dead End's words while his chest slid open. The result made him shudder hard, feeling a strange mix of fierce possessiveness, joy and something he was not willing to put a name on. After all, the Porsche was a possession, a valuable and treasured one, but still only a possession… right?

"Want me, Pet?" It was inevitable, no matter what the Porsche said now, but, well, anything to hear that sweet, desperate begging. Moving up slowly, Breakdown stopped, looming over Dead End and his exposed spark, taking in every little detail and committing it all to his memory blocks.

"Yes...!" Fervently, worshipfully, Dead End looked at his looming Master. He should be frightened, should be terrified out of his processor, screaming and begging for him to stop... "I want you, Master, please... I want you, I want you to take me..." His hands drifted up, stroking in the chest cavity, ready to stop at the slightest sign from his Master. Dead End was more frightened that his Master would stop, but looking at the Lamborghini, he could see the lustful need in the red optics. "Take me, Master... My Master... take me, please."

By the Unmaker! Breakdown would have liked to say that it had been possible to draw it out, that he only initiated the merge this fast because he wanted to reward the Porsche… but if he did he would be lying. He was doing this out of need, his own as much as his pet's, there was no denying that… Now that he had had a taste of Dead End's willing surrender, he had begun craving it. It had all happened so fast, so very deliciously fast and too fast for his paranoia to even give a token resistance. Gently pulling the hands off of his internals and pinning them above his pet's head, Breakdown leaned down to kiss his pet, murmuring low voiced endearments and then pressing their sparks together. Processor stalling pleasure, heat and the delicate vibrations in his mouth, tell tale signs of the screaming he was swallowing with the heated kiss.

Good, it was good... Dead End wasn't really in his right mind at the moment, too consumed with pleasure and surrender and need and love... love? What else could it be called? He shrieked into the kiss, shook and writhed under the blue and white form. He wanted to draw this out, to extend the pleasure, to keep feeling so good, make this moment last until the heat-death of the universe!

Every merge was different depending on the mech or femme one merged with, how aroused either one of the merge partners were, how compatible the involved sparks were... Last, but not at all least, there was a difference in whether or not the merging mechs felt love, hate or indifference towards each other. Every merge with Motormaster hurt… everything from energy signature to personality was incompatible and they hated each other with a passion born of true sadistic abuse and refusal to give in and surrender. This was the complete opposite… it was perfect, it was an ocean of pure burning pleasure that threatened to consume them both. Had any of this been normal Breakdown would have been running, or rather he would have reverted to his previous violent behavior simply to protect himself, but it was too late for that… Dead End was his now and apparently he was also Dead End's… He had never been so satisfied, keeping his dominance to a light hold of the merge, allowing his pet freedom and giving him the gift of almost unlimited exploration.

He was so busy enjoying the pleasure, screaming and crying from it, that Dead End almost missed what his Master had done. Dead End was stunned to find he was nearly an equal in this merge, allowed... encouraged to explore, to map and learn his Master. He did so carefully, not timid but still ready and willing to stop at any moment, perfectly aware of what an honor, what a gift this was. Master, Lover... love... Thoughts swirled, broke, reformed, and then Dead End gave up and screamed in pleasure.

Breakdown got another of the wildly grateful, insistently pleasurable emotional reactions when his pet realized what he was allowing. He nearly overloaded from the light touch and careful exploration, he kept out of the way, held back so as not to scare or block Dead End and that so wonderful inquisitive touch.

/Good my Pet, so very light… pleasant. Tell me 'End, what do you crave the most from me?/

What... did he crave? What did he crave most... /Your approval. Your tru-/ Dead End cut himself off, remembering whom he was speaking too. But then... he already... had his Master's trust... why else was he allowed this degree of control currently? /...your love.../ Oh, that was too far, he hadn't even meant to say that...

Shock tore through Breakdown and he unconsciously tried sitting up to stare at Dead End, causing pain to ripple through the merge link as it was starched almost to the breaking point. His pet cried out and a wave of fear and remorse hit him, addling his already muddled thoughts. He reacted by clutching the shaking silver chassis to his own, running a gentle clawed hand over the helmet and pressing his pet's faceplate against his neck. /Shh… 'End, it is okay. The pain was not intentional, feel, we are still connected Pet, I didn't want to hurt you… I was startled! ...be at ease…/ Breakdown had no idea what to do, how to answer to that… declaration. Was he even capable of love?

PRIMUS, that hurt more than ANYTHING else he'd been subjected too. Dead End shook and moaned into the neck joint, and slowly the pleasure of the still active link soothed away the pain, his Master's gentle words and actions speeding his recovery. Slowly, he did as instructed, feeling through the merge, selfishly needing to confirm his Master's word... He trusted his Master, he DID... /I'm sorry, Master.../ Dead End kissed the neck under his dermaplates, licking a little, just because he could, because he didn't blame his Master for his own mistake. /Just approval... That's... that's enough, a... anything more... ...your approval is enough, Master./

/No, 'End, no… my Pet, I can't- I don't know if I can love you… or anyone…It's… you have my approval already, what I… I can give you beyond that I do not know…/ He kept stroking lightly, blindly… Fighting his spark's need for an overload while trying to calm Dead End down and sound out his emotions, he had plenty of them, more then Breakdown really wanted to admit and plenty he was not sure how to name properly. Was he in love? Was the need for possessing and dominating love… True he was gentle now, the need for his pet to surrender satisfied by the very eager responses given him, but was the need to be gentle, to reward the Porsche, the warm wild flood of strangely uncontrollable and yet not scary emotions… love?

It... cut, just a little, his Master's uncertainty. /It's enough, Master. I am happy... I'm sorry, Master, I shouldn't have asked, I ask too much... You've given me so much already, you even... let me see you, let me worship you.../ To prove his point, he resumed his stroking, his petting, moaning softly at the simple feel. /Forget I said that, Master, you've already given me enough./ He wanted his Master's love, but if the Lamborghini couldn't love... Well, as he'd said, approval was enough, was more than he'd ever had before.

/Pet… my beautiful, desirable little lover… I don't know what love IS! So how can I tell you that I love you without lying?/ Breakdown was realizing that he would do quite a lot to keep his pet happy and satisfied, far more then he had thought to ever want to do for another. But there were a few things he would not give over, his status as dominant, Dead End was HIS, no one else's and the Porsche had better remember his place. His right to punish and reward, not necessarily a part of dominating but something he needed to have… if not he would go mad when he ended up hurting his little pet, his lover when he was in the grip of the jealous rage he knew lived inside him. Lastly… he would not lie to Dead End, ever…

Dead End moaned softly, wanting to take away his Master's pain, the confusion HE had caused with his foolish slip... /You don't have to, Master, I don't need it. I have what I need already, you, my Master, are all I need./ He yielded, inviting his Master to see the truth of his feelings.

Breakdown listened to his pet, took in what was freely offered… but he could only recognize traces of his own nameless feelings in what Dead End was laying at his feet, figuratively speaking. It was endearing that the Porsche tried to take the blame, tried to soothe his confusion and the almost pain like ache of being unable to fulfill such a simple request… still, he would not lie! Instead of answering he 'attacked', thoroughly derailing his pet's thoughts with a barrage of pleasure both spark wise and physical, intent only on getting him to overload. He needed time to think…

He screamed, Dead End screamed under the assault, accepted the pleasure as his Master's gift. Shaking, he let the overload overtake him, didn't even try to hold it back, raised his head, pressed against his Master, he wanted to SEE... The world whited out as energy blasted through his circuits. Clinging to his Master, Dead End just relaxed and enjoyed, waiting for electricity to stop dancing and let him return to normal.

He shook from the strain of holding them both in a sitting position while they overloaded, it did not make it any less good, maybe even the opposite, it was hard to tell. As the excess energy slowly drained off of both of them and he regain his processor, Breakdown gently parted their chests enough to close his own.

"Come on my Pet, close your chest plates…" he murmured distractedly, processor already returning to the problem of being unable to fulfill the simple request. No matter what Dead End claimed he had felt, intimately, how hurt and disappointed his little lover had been when the words were not given back to him. Besides, he refused to let this go now… he was a Master and he could fragging well master his emotions too! At least, he would make it so… for his pet…

Shifting a little in order to support his own weight, Dead End closed up, watching his Master in worry before realizing that he was staring. He knew what was bothering the Lamborghini, but wasn't going to break the silence he seemed to want. He really was a foolish pet, kept asking for more than was his due, even when he was already given such privileges.

Noticing how the Porsche suddenly turned his head away, Breakdown managed to read the worry in his optics before they were trained on the berth… sweet, every gesture designed to please him, to show him obedience and… love. Dead End had told him that he had hated him, hated his attentions and yet craved them, wishing for them to be what they now were, painless encounters of surrender and dominance resulting in unimaginable pleasure. His pet had always had strong emotions connected to him it seemed, but that was true for him too! He had craved the Porsche the moment he set optics on him, hungered for him, burned with hate and rage when Motormaster showed interest in the quite mech and killed the filthy rainmaker seeker who dared to try and force himself on the Porsche. That had been the breaking point, he had saved his pet only to turn on him and take him himself. He had not even given the Porsche time to choose to cooperate, wanting… no, burning with the need to erase what the seeker's hands had done to both Dead End's chassis and his spark. He had kept away from Dead End unless something happened to stir his jealousy or Motormaster had forced Breakdown to share his berth again, then he had always turned to the Porsche to punish him and to… to what? To own him, yes, but it was so much more than just ownership! It had to do with need and a twisted kind of protectiveness with burning, wild… raw… something!

"Ah, my Pet… what to tell you! You were destined to be mine, I knew it the moment I saw you. All sleek, grace and deadly speed, dark armor melting with shadows, so very beautiful…"

"Master...!" Dead End moaned when he heard the words. His Master thought so highly of him? "Oh, Master... you flatter me..." He stopped then, said no more. It was not his place to deny his Master's words, yet more precious, undeserved gifts. This was worth the pain, all the pain he'd suffered, all the pain he would suffer. These moments of pleasure made his life bearable, these moments where he was allowed to love... To love his Master, and know the Lamborghini knew he was loved, even if he couldn't return the emotion.

"I never flatter, my Pet, what I say, I mean… and don't stop speaking, I'll let you know when and if I prefer you silent!" Getting the Porsche to let go and sit on the berth was not that difficult, but he could fairly feel the disappointment as a physical thing radiating off of Dead End. Getting to his feet, Breakdown took a can of the black binder paint that he had to apply first, a thing that could sadly not be done on the berth. "Come, I need you to stand in the cleaning cubicle while I apply this, 'End." It was hard to keep his voice and mannerism calm, what he actually wanted right now was to pet and explore the Porsche, cuddle… well, yeah, cuddle and enjoy the lingering effects of overload energy.

"I... don't know what to say, Master." Dead End stood and let Breakdown lead him to the stall. They both knew that it wasn't needed, but it seemed that Breakdown wanted to, and that was all that mattered. Standing in the cubicle, Dead End felt the absurd urge to purr. Well, why not, it would be some form of vocalization to please his Master. The vibrations theoretically might mess up the paint job, but the vibrations from speech would do as much.

"You don't have to talk Pet… I just meant that you don't need to guard your words so much." The purring was distracting, very sexy and distracting… the powder like base paint always felt sinfully good when it was applied. The compound merged with the bare alloy of a transformer's metal skin and armor, the processes creating heat that reached and seemed to caress the sensors, yeah, Breakdown could understand why Dead End was purring like that.

He nodded a little, showing he heard his Master's words, and ended up purring louder as the paint began reacting. That's right, there was a reason he tried to avoid full re-paints... Dead End couldn't help but twist and stretch, reacting to sensations that weren't even real. He offlined his optics to better enjoy the feelings, and to quiet that niggling little fear of angering Breakdown by looking at him too much.

He was so transfixed by Dead End's movements that Breakdown didn't even realize it at first when the Porsche was all covered. Muttering a low curse, he let go of the paint can and stepped into the shower unit, pressing his startled pet into the back wall. Breakdown reached out and hit the start button before catching the dull black dermaplates easily and quite happily swallowing the yelp his pet uttered when icy cold water cascaded down over his hot plating. The water quickly got a better temperature and he allowed the Porsche to step a little back from the wall so he could run his hands over his chassis and help remove the excess powder.

Really, he should have known the water was going to come... but then, how could he have expected it to be so cold? Dead End's body temperature rose, trying to compensate for the shift from so nicely warm to icy cold. Of course, by the time his internal temperature stabilized, the water had heated up, and his Master seemed quite interested in making things warmer yet. Or maybe the Lamborghini was just trying to help him clean up... Either way, it felt good.

"I'm never going to be done with this…" Breakdown stated, a bit amused. He could feel Dead End responding, his armor heating up further and in turn reawakening his own barely dormant hunger. He didn't mind, actually he was perfectly happy, but he did need to get the repaint done… that and a mutual wax job. Mm, yeah, what a nice idea! "Shh Pet, we need to get your paint done and then we can move to more exciting things…"

With a disappointed little whimper, Dead End stilled, or tried to. Just a wash, right now that's all he was doing... It felt great, but just a wash. Later, more could come later, more WOULD come later... Later... They had the rest of their lives, and though there would always be pain, always be things neither wished to experience... well, HE was going to fight for his Master, for these moments of love, don't call it love, it wasn't love yet, his Master didn't even know if he could love... these moments that made life... worth the pain.

* * *

Aren't they cute...? Please leave a review for this final chapter. :D


End file.
